#why did they continue the story like this?? we all know the history here we know how uhtreds story ends. we didn’t need to be smothered with

[deluweil]

To be honest the way part of the fandom has treated this Tommy character as a god makes me dislike him more. Unfortunately the Buck bi arc was tainted for me because it all feels force. Also what doesn't help is that Eddie was to much involved in that storyline.

The way people are acting like it's a perfect relationship and yet we barely saw them together feels just weird.

Also I don't like how some literally push Eddie away for this new white man.

This is Taylor Kelly all over again. The sad part is that the season is short and people wAnt to to spend their time giving more to the new guy.

I hope him and Marisol are gone, but I'm afraid. These two characters took the joy out of the Buck and Eddie storyline for me.

The fandom, I think, in this case, is definitely the problem here,

Lou is completely unassuming and enjoying the process and being a buddie shipper just like us - if one actually bothers to read the interviews and not just pick and choose what to talk about.

That is what makes me like Lou.

The fandom has somehow glorified Tommy's character after a couple of episodes and yeah it rubs the wrong way, because, what about the story we had so far?

Is season 7 a reset to 911? and everything that came before that doesn't count? Why not just make it 911 abc pilot then?

I don't think that's the case, but I think the last minute switch between Buck and Eddie kind of ruined it for the Tim because, yes, in a way it feels forced and out of left field.

Supposed that Buck was indeed vying for Tommy's attention, why do it like that? and why involve Eddie in the first place?

I have a lot of questions and my main problem here is not that Buck is experimenting with Tommy, it's the way they practically propelled this ship off the cliff into a dangerous spin, they went from zero to 200 in a second. - That is not how you build a relationship.

You don't try to figure out what you want, mess up the first date, then invite said date to an apology coffee and then invite him to family wedding on the way. It just doesn't work that way.

I may be straight, but I have gay and bi and lesbian friends, neither one of them has ever brought a second or even a third date to so much as a friends get together before they were sure that this is something that would last, before they brought the intended victim to be judged by friends and family.

And people who talk about Tommy as being established in the 118 family, that is not true. He has a connection with Chimney in that that he owes him his life and an acquaintance with Hen, who is clearly not very fond of him, because of obvious past she had with him and their old house before Bobby came into the picture. - Remember - Chimney was her ONLY lifeline in that house.

Tommy was not a liked character before.

Arguably Buck had more history with Taylor than he did with Tommy (which is none at all) - But Taylor is a strong opinionated and often self-serving woman (not unlike Buck mind you), emphasis on woman. - That is the only reason she never stood a chance. Because the writers could have made her and Buck the greatest love story this show has seen, but they continuously managed to ruin any fondness for any female LI to ever grace that set.

And this season is short, to bring in a new LI kinda defeats the purpose of re-establishing the team and this show, because it does feel the same as any of Buck's old relationships that were being pushed for the benefit of 'god forbid Buck actually learns how to be alone and healthy and happy' - the only thing that changed in Buck this season is his sexuality and nothing else, and that vexes me.

My problem is not with Tommy, it's the perpetuation of 'poor baby Buck' society. - I love Oliver and I love Buck - I am tired of the ever repeating pattern of forgiveness for his self serving ways without any accountability that we keep seeing.

I don't think Buck's or even Eddie's firsts or you know what? even seconds should be each other, I am more than happy to make this journey with them, but let it be a marathon not a sprint to the finish line - they knew they would get renewed for another season, they could have written and built it better than what we got - because the moment they switched gears after the second episode, the story became written in the same messy last minute way both S4 and most of S5 were written.

There is no grand plan, at this point they are merely winging it and see where the wind takes them. - And that is idiotic, they had SO MUCH TIME to make this a well written story with the strike and long break after that, to write as they film is lazy and stupid and mostly childish.

And yes this is Taylor all over again, not in that they are the same type of people, but that Buck is jumping head first into a relationship without actually knowing how he got there. - Bobby said that himself - and it is the same, because who in their right mind invite a second (kinda) date to a family event? Like dude have you ever dated before? Do you how this works?

It is a LOT of pressure and not even for Buck himself - because he brought this on himself - but rather for Tommy (aka the intended victim) to be first introduced to the family after a couple of dates when he himself has no idea where he and Buck are standing.

Marisol, has indeed sucked the joy out of the Eddie's story, I don't get why do either of the boys had to be in a relationship starting this season to begin with. Like, she is literally a handbag, the token hetero symbol, so to speak, what she is doing there? is beyond me.

The catholic guilt of her being a nun is bullshit, and as Bobby said himself, Eddie has no problem committing to certain people/things. She serves no purpose this season other than a seat warmer/ glorified babysitter since Buck is otherwise engaged.

They could have gone for Eddie finding his way in the department, Eddie dealing with his mommy issues, Eddie trying to figure out what and who he wants in his life, Eddie trying to navigate Chris' terrible teenage years.

They could have explored the fact that a guy going with his supposed gf/wife in the golf course checking Eddie's hot ass (6X17) - Oh wait, they were going to... the ground for Eddie's coming out was all laid out and they took a sharp turn to left field in the second episode of S7 and made it all about Buck again, because the Natalia actress couldn't come?? what kind of a weak ass reason is that?

And yes, the cliche of receiving the odd white man out (who played a controversial role in early seasons) rather than the regular casted poc male or the guest starring woman, for that matter, better is all kind of f-ed up, but no one would talk about that, of course. 👀

Anyway, I am hoping that whatever is coming next will be worthy of our time and attention because so far we got about more of the same as far as Buck and Eddie are concerned - except that Buck has just broaden his variety and has a bigger pallet of mate choosing at his disposal.

I have two very close bi friends, so I know how their minds work, because God knows they share with me more than I ever wanted to know lol. And one of them is watching 911 with me and she is happy for the rep as well, but unhappy with how it was developed too.

At the moment, I have decided to put any Buck and Eddie topics aside and just want to get the LONG AWAITED Madney wedding, if anyone deserve a happy ending, it's them. ❤️

#911 ask #evan buckley #eddie diaz #tommy kinard #marisol whatever her last name is #buddie #911 spoilers #911 speculation #don't you dare to rb this with an opposing opinion - i don't care that you think tommy farts rainbows out of his ass make your own post #and if you don't like what i write block me so you can save me the trouble of blocking you #not directed to this anon #just a warning to toxic fandom groopies that has done it before - naturally they were blocked #I am entitled to my opinion just like you are entitled to yours #deluweil replies

[vveissesfleisch]

.

#oh my god what the fuck was that. what the actual fresh fuck. was that movie #literally who was that for #I’m fucking!!! distraught?!? #I don’t even know where to begin #why did they continue the story like this?? we all know the history here we know how uhtreds story ends. we didn’t need to be smothered with #a watered down half baked unsatisfying angst fest #the story was so insanely rushed. the new characters so incredibly underdeveloped. and old faves barely got a word in #there wasn’t enough history in there for the history buffs and there wasn’t enough story in there for the fans. and fuck me there was ZERO #fan service. fan violence only #so many out of character moments! #if they were going to continue the story after ending the show so beautifully #they should not have done it like this #there were 3 moments I loved and they were each a split second long #and I have so much fanfic to write to make up for that #good fucking fuck I’m about to call out of work so I can write some emergency fixit fic. #man I did not expect it to be so disappointing. #I’m not gonna tag it because my sentiments are negative as hell but let’s just say tlk ended for me with the series finale #this movie is bullshit. except the fics that rise from its ashes. #they did us sooooo dirty after doing us so so so SO good #oh man what the fuck. #sigh. #at least my boys looked absolutely gorgeous #SIGH!

[beggars-opera]

Ok, so I live in one of the more liberal areas of the country. Our governor is a lesbian and I literally did not even know until after she got elected, because it was that much of a nonissue.

Lately, I'm seeing more and more local institutions doing things for Pride. Institutions that don't necessarily have to, or do so awkwardly, but they're trying to be good allies. And, even here, I see people foaming at the mouth. This thing is ruined. Unprofessional. Political. Sexual. Boycotting, disgusted, bye.

And a part of me is like, "Why would a random store, a museum, a restaurant, do this?" Part of my mind has been so corrupted by the idea of rainbow capitalism that the thought of someone just...trying to be an imperfect ally is a cash grab.

It's not. Every bit counts, and especially as we see pushback, and see some of those corporations beginning to rethink their rainbow capitalism, the places that continue to speak up are so, so important.

I'm reminded of a rant by Illustrious Old White Man Historian Gordon Wood a few years back where he lamented how fragmented modern history is. Why do we need ANOTHER book about women, about enslaved people, about the poor? Why are we focusing on these people instead of George Mount Rushmore Washington?

And it was an interesting framing, because he insinuated that these micro histories were bad not because they existed, but because they didn't give the whole story, which in Gordon's mind was a story in which they were the side characters instead of the mains. To that end a biography of G Wash that features the bare shadow of Billy Lee in the far distance is a complete history, all that needs to be said, because one of those figures is a God Amongst Men and the other does not deserve to be fully fleshed out as a full, autonomous human being with a family and a profession and a beating heart. And a biography of William Lee, war aid, professional valet, and person closest to the first president of the United States, with the shadow of George in the background, would consequently be Bad History, because no one is saying that this man didn't exist, but his story isn't the whole story. It's backwards; he should be a footnote, and if he's not, that's bias.

But for me, as a historian, I know that the reason these microhistories exist, and are so important, is that they didn't exist before. Before someone can be truly, purposefully, tactfully inserted into the historical narrative, you need to know who they are. Not just as a name, not just as an archetype. You have to get to the point where there are so many books flooding the market about women and children and immigrants that it's no longer controversial to be talking about them, where learning about them instead of someone else is normal.

THEN you can feel good about rewriting the more general narrative. THEN you can actually have the information you need in order to put things into their proper context, to rethink the most important figure in each story, to assess what the full milieu of the time is.

And that's where we're at with Pride. We are still very much living in a time where queer people are shadow characters in the background. They are people that many will admit exist, but for god's sake, don't make them important, don't make them real, don't make them normal. And until we can shove rainbows down everyone's throats to the point where being queer is no longer seen as a thing that is Other, until we convince people that we're not going away, we will never be able to fully assimilate queerness into society.

We can't just be normal about Pride, because normal isn't loud enough to not get drowned out.

#lgbtq #pride #history #oops I had an opinion

[comradekatara]

“the desert” is katara’s most quietly admirable episode; she manages to guide and protect the rest of the gaang while they are in precarious states under unimaginable pressure and with very few resources. katara’s tireless endurance this episode culminates in her bravery as she risks her own safety to comfort aang in the avatar state.

for an audience upon first viewing, her ability to thrive under pressure here may seem like a surprising departure from the impulsive, reactive, sensitive girl we’ve been accustomed to over the past 1.5 seasons. but sokka’s admission in “the runaway” reframes katara’s behavior in this episode.

we know that while the rest of her family was a mess, katara stepped up and gave them hope. she refused to sink into her grief—to abandon the site of her trauma like hakoda did, to give up like kanna did, or to repress and depersonalize like sokka did. she may have a temper and she may not always think things through, but she is able to communicate her emotions and refuses to cut herself off from feeling and processing her grief and rage, which is more than can be said for her brother.

and upon learning this piece of her history, you realize that her indefatigable, relentless hope and care that she displays in “the desert” is actually a pattern of behavior for her that is being repeated. when all hope seems lost and everyone in her life has abandoned faith, katara finds purpose and meaning in being the glue that holds everyone together, even when she is as grief-stricken and exhausted as the rest of them.

in moments of abject despair, katara guides her loved ones and herself out of there desert, both literally and metaphorically. and that is why she is the narrator and the catalyst and the hero of this story of a revolution that successfully destabilizes an oppressive paradigm in the eleventh hour, because she represents the power and importance of organized resistance when all hope is lost, of refusing to give into despair, of continuing to believe in love even in the bleakest, most desperate circumstances, and envisioning a brighter future even (especially) when no one else can.

#id in alt text #katara #katara&sokka #aang&katara #kanna&katara #sokka #aang #kanna #analysis #this post was inspired by @oneatlatime's response to the desert #but she can't actually read this post yet bc it contains spoilers! #regardless. katara is so important....... to me.... #the scene where aang goes into the avatar state and katara hugs him is borderline unwatchable to me #because it is so heartbreaking & overwhelming #which is also true of most of the southern raiders lol #just. katara's extraordinary depth of feeling!!!! #she is more than a cartoon character she is my best friend. ok #also. 'but now you're not letting yourself feel anything' and the aang & sokka foilism here!!!!! #how in this episode aang nearly falls into a trap that sokka may never truly escape from!!!! #will have to expand on that later too.... #every time i think to myself 'maybe i should stop writing these stupid little posts about a cartoon that ended in 2008' i find yet another #thread to tug on. and another and another #i may never escape. alas #there are worse fates

[orange-orchard-system]

Sometimes I wonder what life was like for plurals of the past. By that I mean – we know of the history of asylums and social outcasting of anyone who did not fit mental or behavioral norms of the past, yes (trends that have continued, although less common and in new forms, into the modern day), maybe even sometimes of those whose plurality was/is part of their culture (so important, and yet so rarely am I able to learn about them), but what of those who flew under the radar? Those who did not know of their own plurality, or perhaps knew, but kept it secret?

How many philosophers and scientists came up with their ideas by conversing with their headmates?

What of the authors who thought speaking directly to your characters on how their story goes was a universal writing experience?

Did any plural leaders who sought the guidance of their council assume that all the advice given to them was decided upon through an internal meeting of selves, just like how they made decisions?

Were there artists who couldn't find the words to explain their drawings were of their headmates? Storytellers who told tales from their exomemories? Record keepers, secretaries, and scribes who were so good at their jobs because they had practice from having to leave records for themselves?

When and where were the plurals like us?

I see hints of potential plurals of history, sometimes – typically in discussions of the self made by poets or philosophers. And there are a few cases that stand out as evidence that we have always been here. But plurality is so often a personal experience, with any observable behavior often brushed over, shunted away from others' knowledge, or just lost in records muddled by how difficult they are to find, that it's hard to make any theories or guesses about the plurals who might have been. Especially with how we're still barely known to most people; there would have been even fewer opportunities for these plurals of the past to find themselves and words for who they are.

It's... something I think about, when I'm looking at studies or learning about history.

Did plural gentleman living in England during the Victorian era get an unexplained thrill whenever they wrote of themselves in the third person for letters, per proper etiquette? Would they have any idea why referring to themselves in the third person felt right, the same way it can feel right for systems referring to themselves by their bodily name today?

Well. How should I know?

But I hope plurals of the past were able to have moments of plural joy, too.

#plurality #pluralgang #actuallyplural #plural system #actuallymultiple #front soup.txt #history

[nameless-flame]

RoR gods reactions to you calling Poseidon a 💅Drama Queen💅

RoR and fem!Reader crack below the cut

Seated along the round table, various prominent figures of each pantheon waited, some more patiently than others, for the mortal standing before them to reveal what she had summoned them for.

[Name] cleared her throat, putting an end to the idle chatter that had previously filled the walls of the old-fashioned conference room. "I have called you to this meeting to discuss a matter of utmost importance."

Shiva rolled his neck, allowing his eyes to freely wander between the faces of the gods – all deemed to be high figures in their respective pantheon – some even belonging to the same one. And yet, there was one man missing.

Leaning his chair back, the God of Destruction balanced himself with two hands holding onto the edge of the table, whilst his remaining two rested behind his head. "Where's that sea deity?"

Shooting a glare in Shiva’s direction, [Name] resumed talking. “If you had not so rudely interrupted me you would have known why.”

The blue man merely rolled his eyes. He had long before grown used to her more… unmannerly way of addressing them. Her disrespectful attitude had at first irked him, and many other deities, but eventually whatever ill feelings they initially harboured toward her soon evolved into intrigue, and later friendship. Some even more than that.

Seeing how the god had not argued back, the human continued. "As for why Sea Boy isn’t here with us today, I didn’t invite him.”

Hades’ brows flickered and he paused his chess match with Zeus. “I presume this meeting concerns my brother?”

[Name] gave the God of the Underworld a curt nod. “I’ll just get straight to the point so to not further waste our time. Can we all come to common agreement that Poseidon is the biggest drama queen in history?"

Hades didn’t know what was more worrisome; her odd exclaim, or the fact that no one had so much as reacted to it. Have things like this truly become the norm?

Most eyes darted to Apollo, and then lingered there, before returning to her, obviously questioning her statement. However, [Name] did not yield under their distrustful stares but continued speaking without any less conviction. "Yes, sure. Some might argue that the twink has some dramatic traits as well."

Apollo craned his neck in her direction, no longer staring in the reflection of his hand mirror. "Why are we listening to her, again?"

“Because they’d rather be here than at one more of your lame parties.” Apollo furrowed his brows, but ultimately decided to just massage the tense muscles of his temples, not desiring to start a fruitless dispute with her.

“But we are not here to talk about Apollo, but Poseidon – the biggest drama queen I have ever encountered in my entire life.”

Beelzebub sighed, tapping his foot impatiently against the marble floor. He just wanted to return to his research. “How did you even come to such an irrational conclusion?”

Standing tall, [Name] placed her hands on her hips. “Irrational? Do you guys truly not see it?” Blank stares were shot in her direction, only Heracles and Ares had the decency to shake their heads.

“Well then, allow me to provide you with an example; If a fly were to land on that drama queen’s shoulder, he would not hesitate to drown all their villages, slaughter their children, and then feed their corpses to the nearest animal.”

Loki snickered, obviously finding some amusement in what he deemed to be an exaggerated story. [Name] ignored him and continued. “And then, to truly top it off, after exterminating an entire species he would just act as normal, as if his reaction was more than justifiable.”

“She does have a point,” the serene voice of Aphrodite spoke. “Poseidon’s reactions do tend to be quite… overbearing at times.”

Rosaline dragged a hand through her hair in hope that the motion would soothe her racing mind. “And I know this to be true because that fly is a metaphor for us humans. I literally bumped into him just the other day, and this bitch-”

A warning glare from Hades.

“This very fine gentleman acted like I gave him the bubonic plague.” Loki and Shiva broke into a fit of laughter. The Hindu god even toppled off his chair, but that didn’t seem to encourage him from continuously laughing his ass off.

[Name] rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, continue howling all day long you buffoons, but I think I singlehandedly made him wish for a second Ragnarok.” This only made the duo double over, trying to choose between drying their tears or holding their stomachs. It was a good day for Shiva to have four arms.

Hermes, however, coaxed his brows. “Do you mean to tell us that you came in contact with Lord Poseidon without invoking his wrath?”

[Name] cocked her head to the side. “Didn’t I just tell you that he looked like he wanted to pierce me into a shish kebab?”

Hades moved his king one square forward on the chessboard, the slight click when the piece hit the wood gaining her attention. “That is not what he meant, my dear. If our brother is truly angry, he will not hesitate to kill whoever is around him. The fact that you are still alive indicates that he had no desire of ending your life.”

Odin nodded from the seat beside his son, who was staring out of the window, wishing for this conversation to come to an end.

"This!” [Name]’s sudden outburst caught the attention of everyone in the room, including the socially withdrawn God of Thunder. “This is what I mean when I call him dramatic! You have just grown used to his actions. Look, I don't mind his exaggerated reactions, but he needs a bit of variation.”

[Name] began pacing around the room, her back straight and chin held high, while holding a stick in her hand. Where did she even get that?

“Someone breathes the same air as me? Dead.” Everyone’s eyes widened.

She was imitating Poseidon.

“Someone accidentally steps on my foot? Dead. Someone has the audacity to look me straight in the eye? Dead.” She stopped and heaved a heavy sigh, “Like, come on. Try something new for once, please."

Zeus stroked his long beard. "Wait, let me get this straight. You mean to tell us that your problem with Poseidon is not his behaviour, but that it has grown old?"

[Name] slammed her hands against the table, making the glasses along the wine bottles on it shake with the sudden force. “Yes!”

“This meeting is over.” Hades declared, already walking away. It did not take long for the other deities to follow him, Loki and Shiva needing to crawl out from all their excessive laughing.

“Fine, go! But don’t come crying to me when you guys realize I was right!”

“We won’t,” cooed Zeus.

…

“Hades?”

“Yes, Zeus?”

The King of the Gods blinked, not believing his eyes. “Why is Poseidon drowning that entire meadow?”

Before the two deities stood their brother, sending wave after wave into a beautiful landscape of green hills and the most gorgeous of flowers.

Hades sighed, running a hand through his white hair. “To kill the flies.”

Zeus turned his head to his brother, already dreading his next answer. “Why?”

The King of the Underworld gulped, cursing that mortal for how correct she had been. “Because a fly had landed on his shoulder.”

#record of ragnorak #shuumatsu no valkyrie #shuumatsu no valkirye #record of ragnarok x reader #snv #record of ragnarok #hades #zeus #loki #thor #hermes #ares #aphrodite #poseidon #shiva #odin #heracles #apollo #beelzebub #headcanon

[dragonmuse]

How to be a Dirtbag Fic Writer

I got to do some talking about writing today and I couldn’t stop thinking about it so here are my full thoughts on the matter of being a dirtbag fic writer.

Being the disorganized thoughts of someone two and a half decades into the beautiful mess that is writing fanfic (and a few non-fanfic things too).

What is a dirtbag fic writer? 

 I am talking about someone who is not cleaning up anything. We show up filthy, fresh out of rooting around in the garden of our imaginations. We probably smell a little from work. We will hand you our hard grown fruits, but we have not washed them and we carried them in the bottom upturned parts of our t-shirts. The fruit is a little bruised. It’s not cut up or put in a bowl yet. But we got it in the house! It’s here. Someone can eat it.  

Why dirtbag it? Because the fruit gets in the house. If you’re hemming and hawing, if the idea you want to do seems to be big or you want it perfect and shiny. If you’re imagining a ten thousand step process, so you’re not taking the first step? Dirtbag it. 

How do I dirtbag? 

That’s the best part. You just write. Sit down. One word after the other. No outline, no plan, no destination. No thought of editing. Just word vomit. Every word is a good word. It’a word that wasn’t there before. Grammar sucks? Who cares. Can’t think of the perfect word? Fuck it, put in the simplest version of what you mean. 

Write the idea that you love. The one thing you want to say. Has it been done 3000000 times? WHO CARES human history is long, every idea has been done, probably more than twice. YOU have never written it before. It’s your grubby potato that you clawed out of the ground and guess what someone can still make it into delicious french fries. 

Now here’s the critical part. Write as much as you can squeeze out of your brain. One word in front of the other. 

And then I challenge you this: at most, read it over once and then put it into the world. Just as it is. AND THIS IS IMPORTANT: DO IT WITHOUT APOLOGY OR CAVEAT.  I challenge you, beautiful dirtbag to not pre-emptively apologize. Do not make your work lesser. THAT IS YOUR POTATO! It has eyes and roots and dirt clinging to it because that is what happens.  We are dirtbagging it today. Hell really confused people at do #dirtbagwriter on it.  

Dirtbag writes id, base, lizard brain. Dig in the fertile garden of your imagination. What is the story you tell yourself before you fall asleep? What’s your anxiety this week? Your fantasy? What is going well? What do you wish things looked like? Who is the feral imaginary character you’ve been crafting to take your frustrations and joys out on? 

But, VEE, I wish to have an editor and an outline, use a cool software like scrivener instead of retching up onto a google doc and making it look NICE and PRETTY!

COOL! DO THAT THEN! IF YOU’RE ACTUALLY DOING IT! You should have a process! That’s cool and healthy and necessary for sustainable writing. But if you’re not writing because all of that seems too much? THEN DON’T. 

Did you know fic is free? That we do this from love? From sheer desire? For the love of the game? If you have a process, and the words are flowing, amazing, I love that for you, you don’t need this essay.  If you don’t, let us continue. 

What does dirtbag writing look like? 

It’s messy. It’s a little raw and tatty around the edges sometimes. It’s weird.  It’s someone else’s first draft. Maybe it winds up being your first draft, Idek, that’s your business. 

It’s jokes that make YOU laugh. It’s drama that would make YOU cry if you read it. You are your first commenter. You are your first audience (and possibly continuing pleasure! If you don’t go back and reread your own work sometimes, you might be missing out on one of your favorite authors cause you wrote it for you! Wait until you’re not so close to it. Years sometimes. Then hey, maybe some of this is pretty dang good actually.) 

It has mistakes. 

Dirtbags make mistakes, but dirtbags have published pieces. They have things other people can read out there. 

What if I don’t get good feedback? 

Look, the most likely outcome of any new, untried fic writer (and even established writers trying something new-ish)  is that you get no feedback. That’s real. Silence. It’s eerie, it’s terrible, it sucks. I don’t want to pretend it doesn’t. But nothing is not negative. It’s a big fic-y ocean out there and we are all wee itty-bitty-sometimes-with-titty fishes.  

You should still do it all over again. And again. And again. You get better at writing by writing. You just do. Nothing else replaces it. If your well is dry? Fill it with new things. Go do something new, read a new kind of book, watch a new film,  (libraries have so much good shit, you don’t even have to spend money for so many things if you have a library card), just go for a walk in a new direction. Stimulate yourself. Got a cup of something hot and eavesdrop on conversations. Refill yourself with newness. 

And hey, speaking of, do you leave comments? Because you get what you give. You can build relationships with people by commenting and that builds community and community means places to get feedback in the end. Comments are gold. They are all we are paid in. Tip your writers with ‘extra kudos’ or ‘this made me laugh’. And hey, when you go back for a re-read so you can tell them your favorite part? Ask yourself how they made that favorite part? What do you like about it?  Tone? Metaphor? The structure? Reading teaches us how to write too! 

BUT, okay. Sometimes. Sometimes there is actual bad feedback and people suck. 

You know the best part about being a dirtbag? Unrepentant block, delete, goodbye. You don’t own anyone with a shitty opinion any of your precious time on this earth. You did it for free, you gave them your dirty, but still delicious fruit and they went ‘ew, this is a dirty strawberry, how could you not make a clean tomato?”  Because you didn’t plant fucking tomatoes, did you? Don’t fight, don’t engage. Block. Delete. Goodbye. 

If someone in person, looked you in the eye when you brought them a plate of food to share at a party and they said “Why didn’t you bring me MY favorite? This isn’t cooked well at all.” You would probably write up a Reddit AiTA question about it just to hear five thousand people say they were an asshole.   Fic is no different 

And hey, when you dirtbag it? You know you did. It’s not your most cleaned up perfect version. So who cares what they think? You might make it more shiny and polished next time! You might NOT. 

Ok, but what if I don’t finish it? 

Fuck it, post it anyway. 

What if it’s bad? 

Fuck it, post it anyway. 

What if it doesn’t make sense? 

That’s ART, baby. Fuck it, post it anyway. 

What if what I want to write doesn’t work with current fandom norms? 

Then someone out there probably needs it!  And what the hell is this? The western canon? FUCK IT POST IT ANYWAY* 

*Basic human decency is not a ‘fandom norm’. Don’t be racist, sexist, ableist, fat shaming, classist or shitty about anyone's identity on main, okay? Dirtbag writers are KIND first and foremost. Someone saying you are stepping into shit about their identity is not the same as unsolicited crappy feedback about pairings. In the immortal words of Kurt Vonnegut: "God damn it, you've got to be kind.”

You’re being very flippant about something that’s scary. 

I know. I know I am. I know it can be scary. But no risk, no reward and hell, you aren’t using your goddamn legal name on the internet are you? (please for the love of fuck do not be using your legal name to write fic) You’ve got on a mask. You’re a superhero. With dirt on your cape. 

That niche thing that you think no one cares about? Guaranteed you will find someone else in the world who wants it. Maybe they won’t find it right away. Maybe they will be too shy to comment or even hit a button. But your dirty potato will stick with them. They will make french fries in their head.

You have an audience. But they can’t find you if you have nothing out there. 

Go forth. Make. 

You have some errors in this essay. 

PROBABLY CAUSE I DIRTBAGGED IT.  But I picked this strawberry for you out of my brain, so I hope you run it under some cold water and find the good bits and have a nice snack. Or throw it away. Or use it to plant more strawberries (I know that’s not how strawberries work, metaphors break when stretched).  

#dirtbagwriter 

Go forth and MAKE

#writing #i'm not an expert #I just have been doing this a long time #and these are my feels #please feel free to throw away this strawberry

[cocogum]

Amalia being Yugo’s first is WILD and here’s why.

When you really think about it, Amalia is technically Yugo’s first lover in the history of the krosmoz.

Just take a moment to think about it for a second. Let it sink in.

According to what we know about Yugo and what he was like in the past, the dude couldn’t stop moving around and never had a day off from his adventures with Adamaï.

That was back when he wasn’t king and had Chibi as the one leading the council of six (unless the story got retconned but it doesn’t change the fact that Yugo was extremely adventurous). Yugo would be spending his days on his original planet discovering and battling beasts regardless if he was unaware that he rinses and repeats every time he gets reborn.

According to the manga, Yugo and Adamaï’s room looked like a giant museum that was filled and piled up with so many things he got from their adventures that it was insane how much they went outside.

So this not only tells us that Yugo was always hyperactive but it also shows how much of a messy guy he is, hoarding around all his stuff. What kind of man has these habits AND has a steady normal relationship? His partner would continuously get frustrated by the amount of times he’s late and unprepared for their dates because he’s so busy doing his own thing.

Besides, even if Yugo did want to get married to someone, who was he going to go to? The only people on his planet are people of the same race as him which are mainly composed of his primordial siblings and his people who there’s a very high chance that they are somewhat related to him and his siblings (Because let’s be honest here. Mina, Chibi, and Qilby must’ve played a huge part in even having subjects in the first place. Why do you think they’re the “primordial ones”? Qilby must’ve just been curious tho lol “iN tHe NaMe Of ScIenCe”)

So no, Yugo couldn’t have gotten into a relationship even if he wanted to.

Amalia was literally his first which is WILD (but good lol) given how many lives he has had.

Also, it’s highly likely that Amalia is the only exception. Yugo’s life is filled with calamities and dangers to defeat. If the literal retired iop god and his daughter don’t have any clue as to why his life is so dangerous but “fun” (Dally told him that he remembers why Yugo’s his best friend BECAUSE of those dangers and Elely asked him how his life can be filled with so many to begin with), then I don’t know how anyone who doesn’t have a fearless spirit can even like staying with Yugo, let alone be in a romantic relationship with him.

And even if there was a fearless person who liked adventuring, the chances of being with Yugo are slim to none. Amalia was a good option because unlike anyone else, she had so many common points with Yugo that it almost felt like she was MADE for him (evidence presented here) like a cute Sadida doll made for a dragon. Or in this case, a cute sadida made for a demigod with dragon blood 💕💕

For crying out loud, she was even the only royal who wanted to go see the world and attempted more than once to leave her kingdom to do so. How many other royals do you see doing that?? They all have abrasive, snobbish personalities who can only think about themselves and reject anything different from them. The only one who used to act so differently from the other rulers was her mother.

Amalia is truly one of a kind.

(It could also be the fact that Amalia just looks extremely different, appearance-wise. The whole Sadida look stands out a lot. They don’t necessarily get confused by other races like forgelancers/iops/sacriers, enutrofs/fecas/foggernauts. The fact that she looks/wears/talks/protects nature might also be another thing that Yugo gave his attention to.)

#when i say she’s his first I really mean she’s his first in ALL of his incarnations #…. #….damn #good for him tho 💕💕💕 #wakfu #ankama #krosmoz #wakfu yugo #yugo #yugo wakfu #wakfu eliatrope council #eliatrope council #wakfu eliatropes #eliatrope #eliatropes #wakfu eliatrope #wakfu primordial eliatrope #wakfu primordial eliatropes #primordial eliatrope #primordial eliatropes #wakfu season 4 #wakfu s4 #wakfu genesis era #yumalia #wakfu yumalia #wakfu yugo x amalia #yugo x amalia

[cobaltperun]

Woe out the Storm (13) - Here comes the Thunder

Wednesday Addams x female Reader

Summary: It took some time, but eventually you came to realize only Wednesday Addams could look at the raging storm of chaos and destruction and make a home out of it. Only she could listen to the cacophony of the roaring thunder and hear a melody.

Story warnings: Wednesday Addams, violence, slow burn

Story Masterlist / First part / Previous part / Next part

Word count: 3.6k

-Storms are comin', better run for cover. Here comes, here comes the thunder-

Tyler Galpin was the monster, the Hyde, the one who murdered Rowan and hurt Eugene. You were pissed, but you were nowhere near as pissed as Wednesday.

“I should have known it. His wounds weren’t nearly as serious as they should have been, I thought he got lucky, but he wounded himself,” she began pacing back and forth, the two of you still in front of the hospital.

“We need to go,” you told her, as subtly as you could pointing toward the hospital where Weems and the sheriff were coming out. “We can’t trust either of them now. H won’t turn his own son in and Weems…” you weren’t ready to say it just yet.

“Has been obstructing us since the start,” Wednesday said it for you as the two of you began walking away. You’d head straight for Nevermore, there wasn’t anywhere else you could go to, really.

“Right, let’s see, we know Hyde lays dormant, so there should be some genetics involved there. Galpin senior is a normie, but do we know anything about Tyler’s mom?” you asked, it was very rare for someone to just randomly develop an ability. It happened, but usually not with the kinds of abilities that involved transforming or shifting.

Wednesday shook her head. “No, and you’re not going to the archive to check,” ah, so she was still worried about what happened to you when you went to mayor’s office building.

“Maybe sneak into his house? See if we can find any medical records? Any history with Nevermore?” you gave in, it was adorable how protective she was.

“We can send Thing,” before you could even raise the question of his health she beat you to it. “He’s fine now,” she assured you.

“Okay, we got a plan then,” you nodded. Thing really was your best option here, even if you wished he could rest for at least a while longer. “Why would he turn on Laurel though?” you wondered.

“I’m not sure, I’m confident Kinbott is Laurel,” she slowed down a bit, as if something caught her attention at that very moment. “No, it’s not Kinbott,” Wednesday completely stopped.

You stopped as well, though a few steps ahead of her, and raised an eyebrow, silently asking her to continue.

“I thought it was her because of the flowers she left in Eugene’s room, they were the same flowers Enid and I saw in Laurel’s room, but the photos someone took of me mean that someone would have to be at Nevermore,” Wednesday explained, and you could see the frustration on her face at both her guesses being wrong.

“And since Tyler is the Hyde, the master has to be at Nevermore,” you groaned in frustration, you had no idea who it could be. “Unless it’s someone else, like the one that attacked me,” why was this so complicated?

“I don’t think it’s that one. The raijin, I mean,” Wednesday said and you halted completed.

“Raijin? The raijin? Japanese ‘lightning god’ raijin?” Wednesday just nodded at that. Well, that explained a lot of things, the pressure you felt, the difference in your level, the overwhelming presence. You weren’t dealing with a beast, you were dealing with a damn god of lightning. “Well, we better hope that guy doesn’t show up, because all that talk about not dying goes out the window in that case,” you just said it. There was absolutely nothing you could do, even if you shifted you felt like you’d be powerless against raijin.

“I know, I saw a vision of Diego, the raiju Goody had a bond with, fighting him. You can’t fight him,” you could hear the hints of panic in her voice. Wednesday knew, even better than you did, from the looks of it, just how strong the raijin was. And it pretty much confirmed you were attacked by someone who’s been alive for centuries.

You closed the distance between you two and took hold of her hand. When she squeezed your hand in return you leaned down, resting your forehead against her left shoulder. “I’m not going to let you deal with this alone, if that’s what you were going to suggest,” you could hear the sharp, though barely audible, gasp. “I’m on your side no matter what,” you let red sparks surround the two of you, completely safe for Wednesday. And in the midst of all that she raised her other arm and placed it on your back, her fingers digging into your back through your shirt.

“Don’t die for me,” she whispered, so softly you almost wondered if you heard it right.

You told her you wouldn’t die, but given the situation, it seemed more like wishful thinking than anything else now. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get there,” you couldn’t say anything else, you could just hope it wouldn’t get to that point.

And if it did… Well, there was no point in thinking about that right now.

You had no idea how long the two of you stayed like that, in the middle of the road between Nevermore and Jericho, not caring one bit about who could see you. You both just committed the moment to your memories, cherishing the feelings you weren’t quite ready to talk about just yet, but you were feeling them nonetheless, perhaps even more intensely than you would if you were to put them into words.

It wasn’t a generational bond. This ran deeper, this was entirely personal, and it brought out a side of each of you that you didn’t even realize existed. The more emotional side of Wednesday, and a side of you that wasn’t afraid of your lightning hurting someone.

~X~

For whatever reason you chose to stay in the quad, saying something about giving Wednesday some space. Considering how emotional she got less than half an hour ago she was more than willing to accept that. When she came into her room, she realized exactly why you gave her space.

Wednesday stopped when she saw Enid there, unpacking and it somehow made a heavy weight she was feeling since Enid left disappear. She could admit that she preferred to stick to certain habits, and you and Enid living with her became a part of her daily routine, so to have Enid back, from the looks of it, made her feel like things were going back to how they should be.

“Hey,” Enid greeted her.

“You’re back,” Wednesday wasn’t sure what else to say.

“I’m gone for a few days, the place gets trashed, and Thing almost dies. Someone’s gotta look out for you two and Y/N can’t do it alone,” Enid stopped unpacking and walked around her bed to get closer to Wednesday.

Like getting emotional with you wasn’t already enough. Wednesday could feel emotions clawing their way out of her body against her will, so she changed the subject. “What happened to rooming with Yoko?”

“Yoko’s great. I just decided I needed a few more boundaries,” Enid was already pulling the tape out.

Wednesday looked away. “Skip the tape.”

“Don’t tell me Wednesday Addams is mellowing out,” Enid dared to tease her.

“Never. More like evolving,” she retorted right away, once again meeting Enid’s eyes.

“Well, one inch of duct tape at a time,” the pastel werewolf smiled, not as brightly, but just as genuinely as Wednesday was used to seeing.

“Why the sudden change of heart?” she couldn’t help but ask.

“Because we work. We shouldn’t, but we do. It’s like some sort of weird friendship anomaly. Everything you said about me is true, but I don’t apologize for it, not anymore. It’s just who I am,” Enid told her, confident and relaxed.

“Thing said he missed you,” it was true, it was also the way to express a part of what she felt without saying it entirely.

“I missed him too,” Enid replied and Wednesday could feel the unspoken words.

“I,” she paused, cursing herself for how soft she had gotten since coming here, how soft Enid and especially you made her. “missed you too.”

Enid remained too stunned to respond and Wednesday took that opportunity to step away from the conversation.

~X~

The plan was set in motion. Enid, who came back and had a much-needed conversation with Wednesday, that you chose to give them privacy for, would make sure to cover your and Wednesday’s absence from your room. Bianca would use her siren song on Tyler, Xavier would offer his shed as the place to bring Tyler to, and Ajax, Yoko, Divina and Kent would be the back-up.

Of course, if anything went horribly wrong you’d be the first line of defense and the one who’d fight the Hyde, even if Wednesday wasn’t too thrilled about that part of the plan.

You watched as Bianca put Tyler to sleep. This was the extent of her siren song. It wouldn’t be helpful for the interrogation; she couldn’t make someone tell the truth. That was the issue with her ability, she could make someone believe something, but in doing so she influenced them. Meaning that she’d influence Tyler into believing he was the Hyde instead of pulling the truth out of him. You stood at the back of Xavier’s shed, behind Tyler, and far enough that he couldn’t realize you were there. If he thought he could fight his way out of this he was sorely mistaken.

Yet, as Bianca woke him up, he immediately put on an act, pretending he was confused and afraid as Wednesday tased him.

The yells of disapproval from everyone else annoyed you. Tyler killed people, he did it in a brutal, painful way, he felt them die. Getting tased was the good outcome for him. But one by one, the Nightshades left Xavier’s shed, with Bianca trying to get Wednesday to go to Weems.

“Wait, wait please! Don’t leave me here with her, I’m begging you!” Tyler cried and whined, knowing that Wednesday wouldn’t stop. But, Bianca left, just like everyone else, leaving only you, Wednesday and tied up Tyler in the shed.

“Wednesday, please! I’m not the monster! And even if I was you’re alone now!” he tried, he bargained, he wasn’t aware of the full circumstances he was in.

“Not quite. Trust me, I’m more than enough to handle you,” you spoke and he froze as he realized you were there as well. “You didn’t think I’d leave her here alone with you, did you Galpin?” you came up to him and placed a hand on his shoulder, zapping him lightly, not any harder than Wednesday’s taser, but he definitely felt it. “Talk,” you demanded.

“I have nothing to say! I’m innocent!” he cried out.

“We know you’re not,” Wednesday stood next to you. “What is Laurel Gates using you for?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you had to give it to him, he was good at hiding who he really was. You were almost tempted to believe him.

“Tyler, the body parts in the basement of the Gates mansion, what are they for?” she wasn’t giving up.

“Wednesday, please,” but he just kept begging, like a broken record.

“Who is Laurel Gates, Galpin? Come on now, either transform or talk, but don’t make this harder than it needs to be,” your eyes turned red and you released a strong burst of lightning around you, though you wouldn’t hit him with it unless he fought back he didn’t know that.

But he just kept whining, crying and begging for mercy and it wasn’t his crying that got you to pull Wednesday back. It was much simpler than that. “He’s not going to talk,” and you could see it in Wednesday’s eyes that she figured it out as well.

Not that it mattered, even considering the fact that Tyler was no longer tased or tortured in any other way, the police, let by Tyler’s father, came in and prevented any chance of Tyler talking.

You were ready to be taken away, but the police ignored you, courtesy of Weems trading in the information of Tyler’s abduction and location for your freedom. You glared at the woman as the police took Wednesday away. She wanted to avoid you attacking someone at the station, she could see the way you felt about Wednesday, and she wasn’t risking those feelings causing you to shift.

~X~

Wednesday was seething. Tyler was getting away with it and now he was gloating. Telling her about his victims, how their fear was delicious. And then, as if to make sure she completely understood the situation she was in, he leaned toward her, pulling her closer by the collar of her jacket.

“You have no idea what’s coming. And your raiju? That beast that you like? I’ll make sure to bring you her head,” he promised to hurt you, he promised to kill you and bring remains to Wednesday and the rage within her reached a boiling point as she seethed while staring at his retreating back. It was as if he really was innocent, that’s how he was behaving and Wednesday pushed the doors open and briskly walked outside. She needed to get away from him, otherwise she’d make her situation even worse than it already was.

When she stepped outside the police station she saw you sitting on the stairs, clearly you zapped from Nevermore to the station and Wednesday couldn’t help but feel her heart hammering nails against her chest.

You heard her coming out and got up right away. You looked concerned, worried about Wednesday and she just took a deep breath. Her time at Nevermore was more than likely over.

~X~

“Expelled?! You expelled her?!” you yelled, lightning bursting all around you and damaging Weems’ table where you were gripping it.

“Calm down Y/N. That’s the quid pro quo for sheriff Galpin not pressing kidnapping charges,” she explained, only fueling your rage even further.

“So, expel me too! I was just as involved!” why was Wednesday expelled why you got to stay?

Weems stood up, anger radiating from her in a way you never saw up until that point. And it was somehow fitting for her.

“You know as well as I do that I can’t expel you. Setting a raiju free would only tarnish Nevermore’s reputation,” she said it in a tone so low you nearly stopped glaring at her. Weems was imposing, but she was never intimidating like right now.

You didn’t back away though. “We’ll see how long you can stick to that,” you promised and blasted the doors open with your lightning.

~X~

Weems wasn’t the only one you were going to confront, but before you could deal with Tyler the only remaining way you could think off, Bianca and her Nightshades came up to you.

“I’m sorry we got Wednesday expelled, it wasn’t our intention,” you would let it go, you wouldn’t react to her words. “We just couldn’t let you torture him,” you couldn’t walk away from that. You turned around and walked up to Bianca.

“Bullshit! He murdered people!” you exclaimed, your anger making your eyes turn red and subsequently making Bianca and others step back.

“You and Wednesday tortured him!” Bianca snapped back, always the boldest of them all.

“And any one of us would have gone through much worse if we were the monster,” you reminded her that was how it worked, how it was for the outcasts.

“Y/N,” Wednesday calling your name calmed you down and your eyes went back to normal, her voice, her arrival put a stop to the argument you had with the Nightshades.

You turned around and saw her coming down the stairs. She really was leaving. “Wednesday,” you clenched your fist, feeling powerless to do anything about this.

“This isn’t over, I need you to stay alive, don’t pick unnecessary fights,” she stopped right in front of you, almost as if she was going to take hold of your hand, but changed her mind at the last moment.

You nodded. “I got this, and I’ll stay in touch with you, I promise,” you told her, which prompted her to slip a piece of paper into your hand.

“My address, if you send letters, or if you want to visit,” she said and you nodded once again, grasping her hand before she could pull it away.

“Be careful, especially until you get out of this town,” you rubbed circles into the back of her hand, much like you did the night Thing was stabbed.

Wednesday nodded, only pulling away from you when Bianca chose to speak up, to apologize for getting her expelled.

~X~

It’s only been hours since Wednesday left and you still weren’t willing to fully accept it.

It was the irony at its best. Because here you were, doing the exact thing Wednesday did when you left the room. You were laying on her bed, just staring at the ceiling. You should have been expelled as well, you should have went with her, you shouldn’t have just accepted her leaving. Now you were stuck in the remnants of her presence. Her scent, her half of the window and her part of the room, void of any color. If you concentrated enough you could almost hear her cello, you could hear Thing’s insistent tapping.

You could feel him jumping on your shoulder and pulling your collar.

Wait? What?

You sat up so abruptly Thing nearly tumbled off the bed. “Thing? What happened?” him being here wasn’t a good sign, no matter how nice it was to see him.

He began frantically signing and you tried to understand him, but you couldn’t follow.

“Wed-Wednesday is- Wednesday is what?!” you were getting frustrated, and so was Thing, as he began signing even faster, fumbling over words and making it impossible for you to figure it out. “Slow down! It’s terrible when you stutter!”

He gave up on signing and jumped down, running to your table. You followed him as he grabbed a pen and tried to write, but he didn’t have a piece of paper. Frustrated, he began tapping the morse code with the pen.

“Wednesday is in danger!” your eyes widened when you finally understood what he was saying. “Tyler and Thornhill took her! To Crackstone’s crypt!” you grabbed your phone as Thing slumped down onto the table, relieved that you got the message. You immediately called Enid, not caring one bit that she was with Ajax.

“Damn it, Enid, pick up!” but she wasn’t picking up as you took the knives you would hopefully stab deep into Tyler and Thornhill, Laurel, whatever her name was. You quickly called Ajax instead and nearly began yelling when he picked up. “Put Enid on the phone, now,” you demanded.

“She’s talking to Eugene,” he tried to tell you.

“Now Ajax!” you didn’t have time for this.

“Okay, okay, you’re on speaker!” you heard him telling Enid it was you.

“Y/N? Eugene told me Thornhill is Laurel!” Enid exclaimed.

“I know, she took Wednesday! I’ll take Thing to Poe’s statue, he’ll explain about Nightshades, take Ajax with you, bye!” you hung up before Enid could say anything and grabbed Thin as you ran and, much like a few nights ago, jumped off the balcony. Only this time you didn’t need to catch anyone, you just held Thing close to you and slowed down your fall enough to land without any injuries.

“I’ll go and get her, I promise,” you assured him as you ran toward the statue.

Thing just tapped that he knew against your palm.

You left him at the statue and threw your knife, zapping toward the crypt. The lake? It didn’t matter. You threw your knife right across it, zapping and catching it and throwing it again, not once looking at the water beneath you. It didn’t matter, the danger, the fear of water, all you knew was that Wednesday was stuck with a revenge driven lunatic and her pet monster that enjoyed slaughtering people.

~X~

The one person that ever made Wednesday feel fear stood in front of her, revived because of her blood and Laurel’s ritual. And he even thought she was Goody. Not that it mattered, he had used his telekinesis to keep her from moving.

Hypocrite, using outcast abilities while trying to wipe them out.

“Goody Addams, you will suffer the same fate you bequeathed me!” he promised as he approached her.

Wednesday glared at him as she tried to break free, but it was even stronger than Rowan’s telekinesis. She couldn’t do anything. She was powerless as he pulled out a knife. The flames flickered, and the glint of the blade made her more than aware of how this would end. She was alone, and she had no way to defend herself.

Doors burst open behind her and the moment of surprise cost Crackstone his chance to stab Wednesday, a knife passed right by Wednesday and she felt arms wrapping around her waist as she was pulled to the side and away from the resurrected man.

“Raiju, I see you found a new one, Goody Addams,” Crackstone growled as he recognized the ability you had.

“Hands off my Addams,” you… just had to… Didn’t you? Even if the threatening tone of your voice made Wednesday a bit more forgiving of what you said.

A/N: Raiju to the rescue! No mortal wounds for Wednesday, yet. Honestly, I feel like the middle of the chapter is a bit bare, so I might go back and add some more scenes, but as it is, I’m okay with this. Do tell me what you think about the chapter. Is the middle bare, or is it enough given the fact that I’m writing slightly altered canon and you could just go and watch the show instead of reading about it.

#wednesday addams x female reader #wednesday addams x you #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday netflix #wednesday addams #enid sinclair #jenna ortega x reader

[mignonricciardo]

holidaze | mv33

i am being delusional and manifesting an alternate world where max is not with kelly... ANYWHO please enjoy holiday max bc carefree maxie is my favorite and this is an entirely self-indulgent fic to play on that

summary: after one night in the club, max has some ideas on the yacht. family vacation? that won't stop him. (4.3k words) warnings: p in v, straight smut, unprotected sex, some plot, mention of max as brother's best friend, cursing, hook position and potential mating press (oops)

With waves of the Adriatic Sea lapping against the yacht, I’ve never been more grateful for my parents’ friendships to influence my own growing up. As a kid, my mum would take my brother and I to races where my dad worked and Max’s dad raced. Max and my brother raced karts together, traveling constantly back and forth between Belgium and the Netherlands, and I tagged along as much as I could with Victoria. The family had long been close friends with our mothers being best friends, and even as life threw constant change at us, we always managed to stay close. Even now, after 25 years, I lay sprawled out on the plush benches on the bow of Max’s yacht soaking up the Croatian sun. Max’s yacht has always been one of my favorite places, and invites to the floating dollar sign picked up after his most recent break up. 

Beyond the confines of the yacht, Max and my brother Dion zip around on jet skis. I can hear their laughing and hollering as they send water flying at each other as they race. Despite Max’s successful racing career and Dion’s pivot into finance, they were still competitive over who was quicker at everything. Hanna, Dion’s fiance and my soon-to-be-sister-in-law, sighs as the pair of boys are particularly loud as they zip by. 

“You’ve got to learn to tune them out,” Victoria, Max’s sister, grins from her spot on the bow. “It becomes a lot easier once you do.”

“You've both got it figured out,” she says, sitting up from her spot tanning. 

I turn to her, lowering my sunglasses just enough, “We have years of practice. You’ll get there.”

“I’ll need to,” she smirks, wiggling her brows. “At this rate, it looks like Max will be around even more.”

I groan loudly, throwing an arm over my face so Victoria can’t see the blush lighting up my cheeks. Hanna laughs as Victoria looks at both of us with a confused expression.

“Alright, what the hell did I miss?” 

She’s fully seated now, and any intentions of her dropping the conversation are gone along with my hopes of continuing my tan in peace. I drop my arm away from my face, craning my neck to look at her before Hanna can get any of her conspiracies out.

“As you know, we went to some clubs the other night. Hanna here thinks Max and I were a little close for being family friends, but we were both drunk. That was literally it.”

Hanna gasps, flying up from her seat, “It was more than that! Victoria, you should have seen it. Max could not stop staring at her ass, and she was totally checking him out all night. Her arm was looped through his anytime we walked to another club, and he was constantly helping her up from seats with hands on the waist. Dion and I felt like we were interrupting something, and we’re the engaged ones.”

“Finally!” Victoria cheers, causing my jaw to drop and Hanna to bust into laughter. “You’ve only been thirsting after him for years. It’s foul because that’s my brother, but you can finally act out whatever perverted fantasies you’ve had since we were teenagers.”

“Why am I just finding this out?” Hanna calls.

“Oh, there are years of history here. Just wait until I-”

“Hi! It’s my life, so can we please stop here?!” I snap at the two women who just snicker at me. 

Victoria lets a moment of silence pass before turning to me, “Can I at least find out what I missed the other night?”

I pinch my brows but eventually nod, giving Hanna the go ahead to tell the entire story to Victoria. She starts with her typical theatrics, using her hands and animated expressions as she talks about the club. 

“... Next thing you know, Dion and I are looking for them to let them know we’re good to go whenever they want to leave, and we can’t find them anywhere. After making our way around the bar, Dion sees them and nearly keels over. They’re on the dance floor, and she’s fully shaking ass on a more than happy Max.”

“Hanna, gross, that’s my brother,” Victoria cringes at the image Hanna is painting. 

She continues nonetheless, “I mean, it was filthy. Dion’s head nearly explodes, but I stop him from storming over there with the reminder that they’re both adults and both so drunk they had no clue what they were doing. To avoid an incident, I go over to tell them we’re ready to go while Dion tries to look anywhere else. Thankfully, the two of them lose some of the haze and sober up and follow us out. No one said a word in the cab back to the villa.”

My cheeks are bright red at the hazy memory, remembering how I melted into his touch and the weight of his hands on my hips. The feeling of my ass pressed against him still crept up when I least expected it in the days since the incident, so I’ve been doing my best to avoid Max. Victoria looks at me, jaw agape and eyes knowing.

“It didn’t stop there, did it?” she says, and Hanna turns to me with eyes wide. 

“What?!”

I pinch my brows, muttering quietly and avoiding the gazes of both women, “Yes and no. He came to my room at the villa while you and Dion were in the shower. I was drunk, so nothing happened, but he stayed the night.”

The two women have abandoned any sense of our previous sunbathing, with sunglasses discarded and sitting at full attention now as I reveal the end of the night. The two chatter to one another, gossiping about Max and I right in front of me. Once they;ve said anything there is to say, they turn back to me with expectant ears.

“Promise me you won’t say anything and you’ll drop it?” I ask with a defeated sigh. 

“Fine,” Hanna says, settling back into the lounger.

Victoria echoes her sentiment, “Since it’s my brother, I’m disgusted, but I do approve, babe. You’re good for each other, even if it's just sex.”

My cheeks burn from more than the sun, no matter how much time has passed since the conversation with the girls ended. Rehashing the incident causes all of the fragmented memories to resurface, and I can’t shake the memory of his hands on my waist or the unshared detail of his lips on my neck. The sun feels a few degrees too hot, and my skin is itching with heat. I try to ignore it and mimic the zen of Hanna and Victoria, but I cave and secure the bikini straps over my shoulders before diving into the blue water. It’s refreshing — the cool waves lapping against my skin and evaporating the prickling heat. When I resurface, pushing wet hair back over my shoulders, I bob in the wake of Max who zips by on a jet ski. He kills the engine, grinning at me as he quirks his eyebrows.

“Want some company?”

I try desperately not to stare, a weak attempt at ignoring the water dripping down his neck from his hair or hands wrapped tightly around the handles of the jet ski. His biceps flex ever so subtly as he leans forward on the handle bars, and he smiles softly as he catches me staring. I run my hands over my hair, pushing the soaking strands back from my face. I grin as he watches my movements, eyes dipping to the water hitting right at my shoulders. 

“Are you trying to get us in more trouble?”

He laughs, eyes squinting, “I’m just trying to swim with one of my lifelong friends. Or take her for a ride on the jet ski.”

I stare at him for a moment, running my hands over my hair to push the wet strands back from my face. All it takes from Max is a quirk of his eyebrow and hint of a grin, and I give in to his request. 

“Got a life vest for me?” I ask, taking his outstretched hand as I hoist myself on to the lip of the jet ski.

I can feel Max’s eyes on my ass as I haul my legs up onto the lip, hand gripping his knee as I rise precariously. The jet ski bobs in the water at the unbalanced movement, and Max’s hands steady my waist as I pitch forward. I dangle over the blue sea briefly, acutely aware of his hands on me keeping me from tumbling over. When it feels steady enough, I throw a leg over the seat, sliding in toward Max. 

He looks over his shoulder at me, “You’ve got to hang on, liefje. I don’t bite.”

I roll my eyes, sliding my arms around his waist as the velcro of the life vest presses into my forearms, “Do you want Dion to kill us?”

“He’d have my head if I let you fly off the jet ski, so we’re in trouble either way, aren’t we?”

“Hanna told Victoria about the club,” I admit to him, unable to keep from telling him as he slowly steers us toward the yacht. “I told them you stayed the night, but that nothing happened.”

“But that’s not entirely true, is it?” he says, and I just stare at the back of his head as he comes to a stall near the yacht. 

He grabs my hand again, steadying me as I step onto the yacht to grab a life vest of my own. He watches me secure it across my chest, and I catch his eyes firmly planted on my chest being squeezed by the neoprene. I roll my eyes at him, muttering how he’s lucky Dion can’t see us, and he grins as he helps me back onto the jet ski. My arms wrap around his waist again, fingers brushing the exposed skin of his stomach, and he inhales sharply at the contact. 

“You alright there?” I grin, my index finger doing another pass over his skin. 

He breathes in again, “Hold on, liefje. I’d hate to have to dive in after you.”

“In your dreams,” I start, turning into squealing laughter as Max sends us flying away from the yacht. 

My arms tighten around him, squeezing around his waist as my hips slip toward him on the soaked seat. My knees hug the outside of his thighs as we zip through the water, and my skin slides against his as the waves jostle us. My chest presses to his back, and I can’t help but become hyper aware of the lack of space between us and the warmth spreading through my limbs. Once he’s had his go at showing off, he slows the jet ski to a steady pace thats farther from the yacht. One of his hands releases his grip on the handle bars, resting over mine wrapped tightly around his waist. 

He laughs airily as his fingers rest on mine, “If you wanted to touch me like this, all you had to do was ask, liefje. You’ve got a death grip.”

A surge of confidence flows through my veins at the rasp in his voice, “Touch you like what, Max?”

My hand not covered by his runs across the elastic at the top of his shorts, skimming across skin and through the scattering of hair around his navel. I smirk as his breath catches and stomach clenched at my touch. 

I lean toward his ear, “Touch you like this?”

He takes a steadying breath, voice raspy as he speaks, “Please, don’t start something we can’t finish. It’s not your fault, but I can’t take it again.”

“That was nice of you, Maxie,” I say sweetly, leaning my chin on his shoulder. “Saying no because I was drunk even though I was begging for you.”

“It was the right thing,” he shrugs gently, breathing in sharply as my index finger continues its slow journey across his skin. “You were nearly impossible, though. Begging to suck me off like a good girl.”

“And if I still want to?” I hum, stopping my hands. 

“Then we need to figure out a way to be discreet,” he answers, craning his neck to look at me over his shoulder. “They’re probably wondering where we’ve gone now, and I don’t need your brother mad at me again in regard to you.”

“Then, let me drive,” I say to him, taking in his side profile beneath the beating sun. “We’ll say you were teaching me. Discreet, right?”

Surprisingly, it doesn’t take much convincing for Max to agree to letting me pilot the Red Bull branded jet ski. I reluctantly let go of his waist, fingers falling away from his waistband, and I notice his breath return to normal when I do. Max throws his arm out again, gripping my hand tightly to help me balance as I shimmy along the lip of the jet ski and over him to switch spots. He slides in behind me when I settle in front of the handlebars, and I notice the gap of space he leaves on purpose between us. His knees press against the outside of my thighs, and his arms wrap over mine to touch the handles. He does a crash course on piloting the jet ski, and while I pay some attention, I’m more focused on his voice in my ear and the closing gap between us. 

“You want to give it a go?” he asks, hands dropping from mine to settle at my waist instead. I nod, and he continues, “Ease onto the throttle, and hold tight to the handles.”

I follow his instructions, sending us gliding across the water in a crawl much slower than Max’s turn. As our speed picks up some, I let out a laugh as the waves batter against the hull of the jet ski. Max’s chest bumps into my back with the force of the waves, and his hips slide closer to mine. I feel him bump into my ass, and his breath hitches as it does. To test my theory, I arch my back ever so slightly, smirking when his hands tighten on my hips enough to leave soft bruises in their wake. He’s straining against his board shorts, nestled against my ass with every bump from the waves, and he groans when I look at him over my shoulder. 

“You’re such a tease,” his voice is strained. “You’re going to get us into trouble.”

“Us or you?” I hum, arching my back again as he sucks in air through his teeth. “I can control myself, Maxie.”

One of his hands slides to my inner thigh, fingers ghosting across the skin and skimming the seam of my red swimsuit bottoms. I gasp as he grins, white knuckling the handlebars, and the nickname I’ve used for him hangs heavy in the air. He leans forward, fingers stilling but resting heavy on my skin, and mutters lowly, “Do I need to remind you how you were begging?”

I arch my back into him, feeling his hardness press into me and his hand press into my leg, “Do I need to again?”

His fingers climb my inner thigh, rubbing circles across the supple skin, and I slump back into him at the sensation. Hands ease off the handlebars as the jet ski comes to a stall. Max’s laugh is quiet in my ear, his breath fanning across my neck, “It sounds like you don’t need any convincing.”

“Max,” I gasp, his fingers setting fire across my skin in their wake. “Max, please. I don’t care that they’re all here. I’ll make up an excuse.”

“Liefje, you and I both know it’s not a good idea,” he whispers quietly, fingers continuing their slow crawl on my skin. “No matter how bad I want to.”

“What happened to no teasing?” my chest heaves, fingers wrapping around his wrist. 

The waves lap against the jet ski, and Max chuckles quietly at my labored breathing. I arch my back again, pressing myself against Max, and he curses quietly at the pressure. One of his hands slides around my thigh, gripping the skin firmly as I gasp.

“You really want to do this now?” his voice is rough in my ear, clawing for any sense of clarity with my ass pressed against him. I nod my head against his shoulder, fingers gripping at his wrist tightly. He continues against my ear, “Here’s what we’re going to do. I’m going to take us back to the yacht. You’re going to act like you’re going to be sick, and I’m just a helpful friend. If anyone asks later, I was helping you clean up after you got sick, got it?”

I nod my head, “And what is actually going to happen?”

“We find out how good of a listener you are,” he says, and I let out a whine at his words. 

Making it back to the yacht happens in a blur as I’m too consumed with images of what's to come, and lying to them on the bow is easy as Victoria asks where we’re headed. My distracted state helps sell the story, and I stumble into one of the bedrooms on the massive yacht. Max shuts the door behind him, making sure to click the lock on it, before facing me. I stand dumbly near the bed, watching his every move and ripple of his muscle as he takes steadying breaths. When our eyes meet, it’s like telepathy. 

We simultaneously launch at one another, lips clashing in a familiar dance with a ferocious pace. The club had been hazy, distant memories of his hands on my hips and in my hair and his lips on my skin, but this — this is the feeling of my skin being lit from within. His hands are in my hair, tugging at the strands with a force that makes me weak, and my fingers curl into his hair as he walks us toward the bed in the middle of the room. My knees hit the duvet, and we break apart long enough to scramble onto the bed before resuming our desperate dance. 

“Max, please,” I breathe as his lips work down my neck.

My hips press into his as his hands skim down my hips, “So impatient, liefje.”

“Need you to fuck me,” I say, and he groans as I do. 

Max looks up from stomach, his eyes hooded and grin on his face. The image of him between my legs and my hands in his hair nearly causes me to combust, but I could care less about how desperate I look. 

“You’re lucky we don’t have much time,” he answers, fingers reaching behind my back to tug at the bikini strings. 

The red top falls away from me, and Max’s fingers pull the damp material away to expose my chest. His hands palm my breasts, fingers gripping at peaked nipples as I moan into his touch. Desperate pleas fall from my lips at his ministrations, and my nails scrape lightly along his back. 

He groans quietly, lips brushing against my chest as he continues his tortuous touches, “Next time, when we have more time, I want to taste you.”

“Next time?” I grin, turning to a moan as his fingers dip into my swimsuit bottoms.

He nods, humming as he pulls the red bottoms down my legs, “You know there will be a next time, liefje. There’s too many things we want to do.”

I kick the bottoms off my legs in assistance, watching as he tosses them carelessly to the side before his hands tug at the waistband of his board shorts. My hands settle over his, and he slows his movements as he watches my every move. 

“Let me,” I whisper, hands replacing his as I tug slowly at the elastic band. 

He lets me, dropping one of his hands to his side and letting the other settle in my hair. I look up at him, biting back a grin and relishing in the power he holds over me. My fingers tug his board shorts down his thighs, hands stuttering as his cock leaps to attention when the barrier is gone. The board shorts are discarded along with my bikini in record time, and I take a moment to admire him towering over me. Fingers wrap around his shaft, and he watches with a sigh as my lips find him, wrapping around the head slowly before returning to my spot admiring him. 

“You’ll get to, liefje,” he grunts quietly, nudging me back toward the bed. “When we have more time. Right now, fucking you is all I can think about.”

I curse at his words, letting him maneuver me among the pillows as he crawls over top of me. Our lips meet again, swollen lips clashing as his hips press against mine. I moan into the kiss, feeling the weight of him on my body and desperate for me. One of his hands slips between us, finding my clit to rub slow circles while his other hand slides down my leg, gently wrapping around my calf. He lifts my leg, fingers pressing into my calf, and lets it rest against his arm hooked at my hip. With another plea and minimal thought, he hoists my other leg before sliding into me. The press of him against me is mind-altering, causing my eyes to squeeze shut as my nails sink into his shoulders. The moan that falls from my lips as he slides all the way into me should be embarrassing, but I can’t think about anything else but Max.

“I know, babe,” he groans, stilling as he heaves for air. “God, you’re perfect.”

“Max, I-” I start, eyes opening to meet his. “You feel so good.”

“Fuck, we’re doing this again,” he mutters, hands pressing into my hips as he moves slowly. 

My eyes flutter shut at the sensation, another moan as he begins a slow pace into me, “I never want it to end.”

“We never have to,” he answers, sweat beginning to bead at his hairline. 

The pace he picks up is relentless, and the slap of his skin against mine is obscene. I can’t bring myself to care, too focused on the way Max fills me and his hands leave bruises on my skin. He hoists my legs higher to rest on his shoulders, and he hits a spot so deep within me that my eyes screw shit as I let out a pathetic whimper. 

“There you go, baby,” he grunts, keeping his relentless pace. “Let me hear it, doll. I feel it, too.”

“Max, fuck,” I choke, eyes beginning to roll into the back of my head. “I’m going to-”

“I know, liefje,” he groans, voice a rasp in my ear. “I’m nearly there. Tell me where you want me.”

“Want you in me,” I answer, fingers gripping his shoulders tightly as a desperate attempt to keep from spiraling over the edge. “Please.”

“Fuck, I can’t say no to you,” he mutters, hips stuttering at a crushing pace against me. 

I try to tell him — to warn him that I’m too far gone — but I can’t get any words out as the sensation overwhelms me. My eyes screw shut as I slump against the pillows, and Max isn’t far behind as I clench around him. I’m filled with warmth, and in the haze of what we’d just done, I find comfort in his body pressed to mine and our intimate connection. He lingers for a moment as he regains his senses, pulling out gently to which I protest, but he returns with tissues to clean me up as best as he can before reaching for my bathing suit for me. He props my still shaking body up, tying my bikini straps for me and sliding straps up my shoulders. 

“C’mon, up you go,” he whispers, helping to pull my red bottoms up my legs and tugging at the waistband to cover my bruised hips. “There you go, pretty girl.”

He tugs his board shorts on himself, and I watch as he tucks himself into the waistband. Red scratches and indents adorn the milky skin of his back, and my cheeks burn red at the damage I’ve done.

“You’ll need a shirt to go back down, I’m sorry,” I whisper. 

He laughs as he leans forward, kissing my lips gently, “I’ll tell them its from the jet ski if they ask. You got scared when I went too fast, but you were good and took it, didn’t you?”

“Fuck you,” I groan. “How am I supposed to go down there and pretend I didn’t have the best sex of my life?”

He grabs my hand to help pull me up from the mattress, “I’d agree with that statement.”

As we head to the end of the hallway, lingering at the top of the stairs to take us back to the bow, I turn to Max, hand resting on his chest as our eyes meet. We both grin when we meet eyes, and I laugh quietly as he wiggles his eyes.

“The rest of holiday, can we do this?” I ask gently, rubbing gentle circles into his skin.

“More than just holiday,” he answers, caressing my ass as we walk down the steps. I swat at him as we near the steps, but he continues, “Tonight after dinner. My room. We have no schedule.”

I watch as he heads toward Dion, leaving me to go back to the girls. God, I’m screwed.

#formula one imagine #formula 1 imagine #formula one smut #formula 1 smut #max verstappen smut #max verstappen imagine #mv33 #mv1

[theidiotwhowritesthings]

TAKE CARE OF YOU

Sugar Daddy!Joel Miller x Female!Reader

Overall Warnings: slow burn, angst/comfort, power imbalance, age gap, possessive tendencies, eventual smut, #daddyissues, independent reader learns to let go and relax, emotionally constipated Joel Miller learns to be vulnerable; (more specific warnings to be added to individual chapters if necessary)

Chapter Word Count: 4,312

Summary: You spent your entire adult life supporting yourself and barely getting by. It's why a life of ease offered to you by a mysterious stranger sounded so foreign and unbelievable. Joel Miller, dressed in flannels that had seen better days, didn't look like the kind who could promise you the world on a plate, but he seemed desperate to help out. All he asks is that you let him take care of you. That wouldn't be so hard. Would it?

[a/n: i know what you're thinking. 'JJ, what the hell are you doing?' The answer to that question, always, is 'I have no fucking idea'. But, this idea gripped my soul. Oops.]

01: YOU WORK A BUNCH THEN ONE DAY YOU DIE

"i don't want a sugar daddy but maybe like a sugar buddy. i just hit him up like, 'Hey how are you today?' and he replies, 'Doing great thanks for asking here's $7,000.'" -unknown

The life you lived was simple and boring. You were reminded of this fact as Nima rambled through a story about how her blind date last night had turned into a bar brawl which spiraled into a stint in the emergency room. Meanwhile, you had binged a show you'd already watched a dozen times on Netflix while shoveling popcorn down your throat. This worked perfectly for you though. You got to stay in your comfort zone while living vicariously through your best friend’s disasters. 

“Please tell me you won’t be seeing her again.” You chuckled.

Nima scoffed, “Hell no. She could not carry her own in that bar brawl. That’s why we ended up in the ER.” She scrunched her nose then shrugged. “But she’s fine now. The girl only needed like seven stitches.”

You shook your head and breathed out a laugh. For the entire time you had known her, going on a decade now, Nima had never dated a normal woman. It was almost impressive how terrible her record was.

The Korean woman’s hair was dyed a solid bubble gum pink and tied up into two messy buns atop her head. Her clothes were a patchwork of pastel colors that showed off her toned midriff and long legs. The purse wrapped around her chest was shaped like a giant strawberry and the large headphones wrapped around her neck were equally as bright as the rest of her. Everything about Nima was a blur of chaos and energy and people couldn’t help but be drawn to her. Add that to her awful taste in women and it was the perfect recipe for her wild dating history. 

“Why did we come here?” You asked as your eyes scanned the menu of the coffee shop. The two of you were in the very long line waiting to reach the register, and you had to lean to the side to see around the broad man standing in front of you both. “It’s so overpriced.”

“I follow this girl on insta and she said they have the best lavender matcha latte.” Nima shimmied her shoulders in excitement. “It looked amazing.” She bumped her hip against yours. “What are you gonna get?”

“Will you yell at me if I say vanilla latte?”

“Yes!” Nima scoffed. “That’s so boring! Get one of their specialty drinks at least!”

“Like?”

Nima scanned the menu then pointed at something. “Get the cotton candy frappe!”

You chuckled and continued to scan the menu. There had to be a middle ground option between those two. The line continued to move and Nima had switched from her dating life to her newest project at work. She was an engineer currently working in construction. You were immensely proud of the success she had found in her passions. Honestly, a bit jealous as well. You were in the northern end of your twenties and you had still yet to find something you loved. It was like the world had hit pause on the momentum of your life post college. Time flew by, years passed, but nothing had changed.

The man in front of you reached the register and you realized you’d have to pick something soon. You heard him order something simple⏤ like you had planned. You didn’t pay him much mind until you noticed him patting his pockets growing more frantic with his motions as he realized he was missing something. Finally, he groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. From the angle you stood at, you could just barely see his profile, but it was enough to see his face was scrunched up in frustration. You glanced over at Nima, who was texting, then back to the man who was obviously having a terrible day.

“Sir?” The boy working the till questioned.

“Just⏤” The man huffed as if he were trying to wrap his mind around something. You assumed there was more going on than just a lack of money to buy some coffee. Not having the means to pay for something was probably just the icing on the cake for him. It wasn’t a situation you were unfamiliar with. 'Been there, done that'.

Quickly, you stepped up to stand beside him and fished out your card. “Add a, uh, cinnamon roll latte to that order please. I’ll pay.”

“Wait.” The man held his hand out to argue, but the guy at the register was already swiping your card. He wrote the orders out and motioned for Nima to step up next. The man stepped away from the register without tearing his eyes away from you. His stare was inquisitive and confused. “You didn’t have to do that.”

He had a southern drawl to his words that you didn’t hear often in this part of Los Angeles. Your eyes scanned his figure which looked even more broad when you stood in front of him. The man wore a worn out red flannel with old blue jeans and work boots. His hair was a bit messy, fluffed and slightly curled at the ends, in mostly shades of brown with a bit of silver peppered in. The silver was more prominent in the scruff along his jawline. He was handsome, there was no denying that. Even with his eyebrows furrowed and his lips drawn out in a frown, you couldn’t help but admire him.

“Don’t worry about it.” You shrugged. “You looked like you were having a rough day. We all need a helping hand now and again.”

When Nima finished ordering you turned your focus on her, but she said she was running to the bathroom and disappeared. It left you standing alone next to the man waiting for the drinks to be made. Which would be fine if you didn't feel his gaze still burning into you. Awkwardly, you crossed your arms. You were overthinking it. Paranoid. He probably wasn’t even paying you any mind anymore. To reassure yourself, you glanced over at him only to realize you had not been paranoid. Your eyes locked with his soulful brown ones. Handsome brown eyed men were a menace to society. Nobody should have that much power with just a gaze. Panicked and embarrassed, you snapped your gaze forward once more.

“Thank you.” He said gruffly.

“Like I said,” You cleared your throat, “It’s no problem.”

“I’d love to pay you back.”

You turned to face him, letting out a small laugh, but he didn’t join in. The man just stared at you patiently. Your laughter died as you blinked at him in surprise. “Wait, really?” He nodded. “That seriously isn’t necessary. It was like five dollars.”

“Doesn’t matter. It’s the principle.”

“Listen, you seem stubborn, but I promise you I’m worse.” You joked and the corner of his lip curled up into an amused smile that was gone as quick as it came. You almost wondered if you imagined it. “Just… the next time you’re out and you see someone struggling, pay it forward. Deal?”

He didn’t reply for a moment. Just stared, and it took all your willpower not to glance away again. Finally, he crossed his arms over his chest. You mentally cursed when your dumb eyes traced the lines of his arms. No ogling the stranger. He nodded once. “You drive a hard bargain.” A small smile cracked his otherwise solemn features and this time it lingered long enough for you to actually acknowledge it. “But you got yourself a deal, darlin’.” Your cheeks burned again at the term of endearment. He paused before holding out a hand to you. “I’m Joel.”

You shook his hand, his much larger one enveloping yours entirely, and you offered him your own name. Silence settled between the two of you, but it only lasted a beat before your orders were called out. Joel’s long stride had him at the counter before you got there. He picked up your coffee first and offered it to you before taking his own.

“Thanks.” You chirped.

“I’m thankin’ you, remember?” Joel lifted his simple cup as a reminder. He gave you a slight nod. “It was nice to meet you, darlin’.”

“Uh, you too! Hope your day gets better!” You gave him a small wave. 

Joel turned to leave and you couldn’t help but let your eyes trail up and down his entire body. His jeans could not fit him more perfectly. Ogling the stranger was okay, you decided, as long as said stranger wasn’t watching you do it. As you shamelessly checked him out, you didn’t notice your friend drift back to you. “Nice.” You jumped in surprise. Nima was grinning at you in excitement. “Please tell me you got a number.”

“A number?” You scoffed. “Are you crazy??”

“I saw sparks!”

You rolled your eyes, “You literally see sparks everywhere, Nima.”

“Okay, yeah, maybe, but one of these days I’m gonna be right.” She argued. “Statistically, speaking.”

You changed the topic of conversation, which was always easy to do with Nima, and took a sip of your coffee. It was a bit too sweet for your taste, but the trip to this pretentious coffee shop hadn’t been a complete waste. How often did people get a chance to chat with a handsome, older southern gentleman?

The bakery you worked out was a small family owned business. The owner, a cute little old man named Henry Pack, was an old friend of your father’s and when you showed interest in work he hired you without hesitation. That was two years ago. The initial plan was for this to be temporary. A way to earn money so you could pay bills and save up to finish your degree. However, life had dished out hit after hit and suddenly your temporary plan had turned more permanent. 

Plus, the shop wasn’t doing well, it wasn’t getting the traffic it used to, and Henry was getting older and older. He needed the help and even if something else came up⏤ whether it be better paying or more enjoyable⏤ you didn’t think you’d be able to leave Henry behind. Not after all he had done for you. 

You wiped down the counter once more mostly out of boredom. The last customer had been in and out nearly an hour ago. Henry walked in from the back office and you glanced over at him. He was a short, portly man with ruddy cheeks and a kind smile. It hurt your heart how stressed he had been as of late.

“Have you noticed much foot traffic outside?” He asked, hopeful.

“A bit.” You nodded. “Lunch just ended. I’m sure that’s why we have a lull.”

“Right, right.” Henry replied as if trying to convince himself.

The older man knelt down to root around in the lower cabinets. You offered to find whatever it was he was looking for, knowing he had bad knees, but he brushed your hands away stating he was just fine. With a sigh, you thought now was the best time to bring up the question that had been plaguing you.

“Henry, I need to talk to you about maybe a… a raise?”

He glanced up from where he was knelt with a frown. “I told you, hon. I can’t afford to pay you more. No matter how much I wish I could.” Henry sighed. “Well, maybe if I…”

“Never mind.” You said quickly. It was clear that your question was distressing to Henry. It wasn’t his fault you weren’t making the kind of money you needed. He was barely scraping by as well with the costs of keeping this place open. Henry gave you a sad smile⏤ an apology. He finished what he was doing and wandered back to his office. You blew out a frustrated breath. Maybe you could pick up a new job. The problem was that you were already working a crazy amount of hours here at the bakery. If you were somehow able to become the first human alive who didn't require sleep then that could work.

You covered your face with your hands and leaned back against the counter. For most of your adult life, you only had yourself to rely on financially. It was fine. That was the hand life dealt you. Nima was constantly offering to pay for certain things, or trying to loan you money, but you always refused. Too prideful to take her money with no guarantee that you’d be able to pay her back or offer her anything in return. 

The sound of a bell chime startled you and you pushed off the counter quickly to try and regather your bearings. You cleared your throat and turned toward the door to offer the guest a smile. A greeting began to leave your lips, but it was cut short when you realized you recognized the man crossing the space to reach the register. It was the handsome coffee guy from a week ago.

“Well, you’re a familiar face.” You chuckled. “Joel, right?”

“Right.” He looked surprised that you remembered his name. Joel cleared his throat and came to stand in front of the register to face you. He had on a similar outfit to the last time you saw him. Flannel and jeans, but he seemed a bit more put together today. “Are you guys closed?”

“No. It’s just a… slow day.” All the days were slow actually. You straightened your apron, the only uniform item required for you to wear, and offered him a bright grin. “What can I get for you, sir?”

Joel glanced over the menu then the display case before nodding. “Muffins?”

“Okay.” You nodded when he gave you no further information. His eyes just snapped back to you. “What kind? How many?”

His eyes widened and he forced his gaze back to the display. “Just, uh, six of the blueberry?”

You bit back an amused chuckle and moved to start packing a box with his order. It was funny to you that this man had come into a bakery without an order in mind. After closing the box, you set it on the counter in front of him. “So, do you make a habit of popping into bakeries to order random things? Just passing by and thought ‘why not?’.”

“Somethin’ like that.” Joel chuckled. He reached into his back pocket to pull out his wallet. He gave it a small wave and nodded at you. “I have money with me today.”

“Very nice. I’m impressed.”

“Thank you.” He flipped it open and pulled out a card to hand to you. You hadn’t even told him how much the muffins would be. “I triple checked before leavin’ the house.” You handed him back the receipt with his card, and Joel put them away without making any move to leave. “How long have you worked here?”

You leaned against the counter. “About 2 years now. A family friend owns the shop.”

“Are you the one who,” Joel motioned to the display, “bakes?”

It was odd to you that the man sounded so nervous about having a simple, casual conversation. It was as if he was rusty at the skill and was attempting to stretch out those old muscles. With a small, amused smile, you shrugged. “Some of it. Henry is the main baker, he’s incredible, and I learned from him.”

“Is it somethin’ you enjoy?”

“Meh.” You answered honestly. “I’ve gotten decent at it, but I don’t necessarily love it. Just sort of fell into it.” Joel nodded and his pretty brown eyes darted around like he was looking for a new conversation topic. You threw him a bone. “What about you? What do you do?” You motioned to him and teased. “I’m guessing lumberjack.”

Joel chuckled, “Lumberjack?”

“Yeah.” You pushed off the counter to stand straight. “If I squinted I‘d mix you up with the Brawny guy.” His eyebrows furrowed in confusion and you let out a mocking scoff. “You know? The paper towel lumberjack.”

You saw a flash of recognition in his eyes and a breathy laugh left him. Joel shook his head. “Can’t say I’ve gotten that one before, darlin’.” 

“Where are you from?” You blurted curiously. “There’s no way you picked up that drawl living in LA.”

“No, I didn’t.” Joel replied. “Texas. I’m from Texas.”

“Ah. That fits. You’re like a cowboy then.”

Joel rested his hands on the counter, “Am I a lumberjack or a cowboy? I’m gonna need you to make up your mind here.”

“Hm, can I get three to five business days to decide?” 

“I suppose.” Joel nodded. 

The door chime rang out and you glanced over to see another person wander in. For the first time ever, you found yourself disappointed to see a paying customer. Joel cleared his throat, dragging your attention back to him, and you watched as he opened up his wallet again to pull out a crisp five dollar bill. You laughed with a shake of your head as he shoved it into the tip jar.

“It was nice to see you again.” Joel said.

“You too. Have a good day.”

Joel picked up the box of muffins and on his way out he called back, “I’ll be back to find out if I’m a lumberjack or cowboy, darlin’. So get to thinkin'.”

Your cheeks warmed in amusement and you wondered if he was actually serious or if that was just a teasing joke. The other customer reached the register, and you turned to greet them. The stress of thinking about your bills and work life had been briefly soothed by the distraction of talking to Joel. That was nice.

Shockingly, Joel hadn’t been joking. He came back a few days later, ordering something random and on the spot, then demanded to know if he was a cowboy or a lumberjack. You had convinced him to give you more time to think as you joked that you needed further evidence to assess. That had been the start of a habit. Joel would randomly come in just to chat every few days or so and buy a new baked good from you.

A few times, he had walked in while you were helping other customers, but he always waited until they were rung up and on their way out before initiating any conversation with you. It was during the fifth visit that you could tell he was nervous about something. After some time he had gotten more comfortable talking to you, but today it was almost like he had recessed back to that first time. 

“Are you workin’ this weekend?” Joel asked after ten minutes of small talk.

“Only on Sunday.” You admitted. “I’m picking up some extra shifts.”

“More shifts? Don’t you already work ‘em all?”

You chuckled. “Not all of them, but definitely most. But, hey, that’s life, right? You work a bunch and then one day you die.” Joel always seemed uncomfortable when you talked about your work schedule in any fashion. “Why do you ask?”

He had furrowed his brow at your working comment, but it quickly smoothed out as he shifted in place. It was cute to see a man as large and intimidating as he could be squirming over whatever topic he was trying to bring up. You stayed silent and let Joel mull it over. While he worked out whatever was on his mind, you could admire how well his plain t-shirt fit him. 

“Nothin’. Just curious is all, darlin’.” Joel finally coughed out and you bit back a frown.

“What about you?”

Joel shrugged. “Workin’ some. Stayin’ busy.”

Multiple conversations ago he had revealed that he worked as some kind of contractor. You didn’t know much about that job other than it had something to do with building houses? Maybe? When you asked for more details he had stayed pretty vague.

“I should head out.” Joel cleared his throat holding the box of cookies in his hands.

“Oh. Yeah.” You nodded. “Sure. It was nice to see you as always, Joel.”

Joel gave you a tight lipped smile before turning on his heel and beginning to leave. He was halfway to the door before he spun on his heel and marched back⏤ startling you. Joel set the box down on the counter, hands resting on the edge, and kept his eyes downcast.

“I have a…proposition.” He blurted. Joel’s eyes snapped up to meet yours and the weight in those warm brown eyes nearly knocked you to your knees. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t harboring a small crush on this man. Despite him being nearly two decades older than you, if you garnered a guess, the attraction you felt to him was not affected. In fact, it probably made you a bit more attracted to him. You knew that a therapist would probably cry out ‘daddy issues’, but you also had a hard time believing anyone could not be attracted to this man.

That being said, a part of you⏤ a very small part that you were too scared to encourage⏤ was really hoping he could be asking you out to dinner or drinks. Was that silly and unrealistic? Probably. It didn’t extinguish that little flame of hope though. You shrugged. “Proposition?”

“I wanna take care of you.” Joel spoke firmly. As if by just bringing this topic up, he had shed his nerves and was focused solely on selling you whatever this proposition was. You narrowed your eyes confused at his wording. The man continued. “Help you out, darlin’.”

“With?”

“Anythin’ and everythin’.” Joel sighed. “You name it and it's yours.”

You let out a confused chuckle. It was like the tables had turned and now you were the one who felt nervous. You buried your hands into your apron pockets and tilted your head. “Not to sound dense, but, uh, what?” Joel didn’t immediately reply. He just stared at you and his eyes burned straight to your soul. A warmth churned in your belly. “I just need you to be specific about what you’re offering because it’s going to be really awkward if I’m misunderstanding you.”

“I’m offerin’ you a life of ease. You work too much, doing somethin’ you don’t even love, and even when you’re off I bet all you do is stress about havin’ to work more to afford rent and bills. Am I wrong?” Joel challenged. You twisted your lips not having a solid argument. He wasn’t wrong. “So… let me take care of you, darlin’.” The choice of his words, the sound of his accent, in his gruff voice sent chills down your spine. You swallowed the lump in your throat and squirmed under his heavy gaze. “I’d love nothin’ more.”

“Nothing more? I… I don’t think that’s usually how that works.” You mumbled softly. An almost sickening feeling filled your gut. No amount of attraction to Joel would soften the idea of him paying you for sex. That’s what he was asking right? Joel makes you comfortable, pays all your bills, and in return you fuck him? 

Joel must have noticed the shift in your mood because he held out a hand in surrender. “I know what you’re thinkin’. Not like that. I wouldn’t expect…” He winced. A bit of his nerves crept back into his features. “I wanna take care of you, and all I ask in return is that you allow me to do that. Offer some platonic company. Someone to talk to. Plus, occasionally, I’d need…a date. No strings there either. Work drags me to a bunch of real stupid conferences and outings. Having someone to talk to durin’ those things would be…nice.”

“That’s it?” You found it hard to fully trust that. As much as you had enjoyed your conversations with him, you still barely knew him. “You’d offer someone a little cash to chat with them?”

“Not just a little cash.” Joel said firmly. “Everything. Takin’ care of you isn’t somethin’ I’d want to half ass, darlin’.”

“That’s even less believable.” You said skeptically.

Joel nodded. “Fair. How about this,” He cleared his throat, “You said you’re off Saturday?” You nodded. “Let’s meet. Talk about this. No pressure. You can ask any and all questions you have.”

You chewed on your lower lip in thought. Saturday was two days away. “Can I think about that? Before I even agree to meet you.”

“Of course.” Joel nodded. He pulled a business card from his wallet and held it out for you to take. You reached out for it, and the brush of his fingers against your hands gave you goosebumps. “I want you to be comfortable. Call me if you’d like. Or… if you’d rather never see or contact me again I⏤ I get that too, darlin’.”

You stared down at the card, but realized it wasn’t a business card like you thought. It was the same size, but he had scribbled his name and cell phone number on it for you. Joel mumbled a quick good-bye before heading to the door again. You called out to him, looking up from the card, and he paused to glance over his shoulder.

“Why me?” You questioned. It seemed so random. Situations like this didn’t happen to people like you. They happened to people like Nima. People who were willing to step out of their comfort zone and put themselves out there. This couldn’t possibly have stemmed from this man forgetting his wallet one day and you being in the vicinity to fix that problem.

Joel’s lips curled up into a small smile and he shrugged. “I, uh, I like talkin’ to you, is all.”

The chime of the door as he left echoed through the otherwise quiet room. Your eyes glanced back down to the card where ten numbers stared up at you dauntingly. Just above it, written in a messy scrawl, was his first and last name. ‘Joel Miller’. It wasn’t until you read his name for the seventh time that you realized you were actually considering his offer.

[next]

✨J.M. Masterlist✨

#the last of us #joel miller #modern au #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #sugar daddy!joel miller #slow burn #reader insert #female reader #tlou #tlou fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

[im00flynn]

Never letting go

Yandere Buggy x Reader

You were a pirate who knew Shanks and Luffy. You were a part of Shanks, and while being on his crew, you met one man who was crazy about you, Years later, while on a quest to find the one piece with Luffy and his friends, Nami and Zoro, you never expected to see him again.

Warnings: Yandere, Angst

You'd known Luffy since he was little. You met him through Shanks, and you knew he wanted to the king of the pirates

You were extremely supportive of his dream and even helped him start up his own crew.

Now you were with Luffy, Zoro, and Nami on your ship on your way to find the one piece.

What you didn't tell the crew is your history with some pirates at sea, thinking that all the issues were left in the past.

Boy were you wrong.

"What the hell was that?" Zoro questions after hearing a thud outside the small room on the boat

We all rush out and notice that red smoke covers up the entire ship, then it hits you that you know who is doing this.

Before you're able to possibly fight any pirates that try to fight, you pass out due to the smoke.

-------------------‐-------------------------------------------------

"Wakey, Wakeyy~, a familiar voice tells you as you regain your consciousness.

"Ah, Their awake! Hi sweetheart~" The voice says, making it realize it belongs to the one man you thought you'd gotten away from.

Buggy.

"Buggy?" You whisper mostly to yourself, still not believing anything that's happening.

"That's right! we are finally together again [Name], and I don't plan on letting you go again."

"How did you find me?" You ask him with curiosity but also fear.

"Well, sweet face, I have my ways that I might reveal later on." He says with his creepy smile.

-------------------‐-------------------------------------------------

After Buggy told you that information, he took you to his circus arena and made you change into an outfit similar to his.

"You look lovely darling, you should wear stuff like this more often~" He tells you as he walks towards you, placing a kiss on your head, linking arms with you.

This would be a sweet moment if it wasn't for the fact that he was obsessed and overly protective of you.

When you first met him, you thought he was a cool person who you developed feelings for.

But he also developed feelings for you, except it was more of an obsession than love.

He would get jealous when you would hang out with Shanks or any other crew member.

You thought if you left with Shanks and left Buggy behind, he would move on.

You were wrong.

-------------------‐-------------------------------------------------

"Buggy, please let me and my friends go." You plead him.

"That's not going to happen, sweetheart." He tells you as he gets ready for his show.

"Why not?" You question him with irritation

He stops and walks up to you, so you're face to face.

"I have been in love with you ever since I met you. When I met you, I felt the need to protect you and love you. I was going to ask you to be my partner, but then Shanks took you away from me and left without a word as to why. Maybe he was in love with you too, I mean, who can blame him?" He says that last sentence with a sarcastic chuckle.

"But.." He makes the space between you too smaller, "Shanks isn't here, so he can't take you away again." he tells you.

Before you can respond, he closes the gap and puts his lips on you, putting a hand behind your head to make the kiss deeper.

After a few seconds, he pulls away and whispers, "You're mine now."

His evil clown smile creeps back on his face as he takes your hand in his.

"Now, let's go, sweetheart. we got a show to put on"

A/N: This fanfiction will have a part 2, but I'm thinking about making this fanfiction a series. It would follow the plot of the live action One Piece. Let me know if you want me to continue this story beyond a part 2.

#buggy x reader #buggy x you #buggy the clown x reader #one piece x reader #one piece x you #buggy the clown #buggy one piece #op buggy

[sparrowrye]

Alastor x Fem! Reader {soulmates} Part 6

Synopsis: soulmate AU where you have the same mark on your body as your soulmate, and if your soulmate dies, you die too. Alastor needs to make sure that his soulmate is safe so he can continue his reign - whatever that takes.

Part 6: expanding horizons

Part Pilot | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

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

Husker spent the next morning teaching me how to hold my human appearance. It took several practice tries before I could switch between Human me and Demon me. Afterwards, I spent the rest of my time outside staring off into space.

I still didn't know how to wrap my head around...well, myself. Husker had been right, holding a human appearance took effort. I couldn't hold it for long and ended up letting my demon side out most of the time. It was cool, yeah, but scary. What else did I not know about myself?

"Hey," Husker called from the door. "You busy?"

I scoffed. "Does it look like it?"

He padded to his chair and sat down facing me. "Do you...want to talk?"

"About what?" I stared at the tree line.

"About...this new side of you?"

"What's there to talk about?"

We both fell silent. I felt bad. I knew Husker was trying to help. It made me uncomfortable to talk to him, though. Would he spill to Alastor some of the things I said? Did Husker himself have motivations against me? It didn't seem likely but there was always the probability.

"Have you been to hell?" I finally asked. I didn't want to talk about myself but there was a whole other world I supposedly came from.

"Yeah, a few times," he replied, "I mostly grew up on the surface though. In the gambling district."

"So you play cards, huh?"

"A few." He slipped a card into his fingers, spun it, and made it disappear a second later. I chuckled.

"What's it like?"

"Dark. Creepy. Lawless. And a fuck ton of red."

"Is it really...hell or just..."

"It's really hell."

"I thought demons were just a form of spirits."

"I wouldn't know the specifics of things like that," he waved his hand, "but I do know that demons have their demonic look and hid among humans when they first crawled on the surface. Our history is supposedly recorded in some fancy library down in hell."

"What uh...does this mean I'm a Full mage?"

"Mmhm," he nodded.

"So I can do things like you and Alastor."

"Well, things like me sure. Alastor is a bit different."

"How?" I pushed.

"Well, in hell, demons who rise through the ranks are called Overlords. They own hundreds and thousands of souls down there. They all seem to have some kind of...super magic. Something specific to them. But Al...he's a completely different monster."

"Why does no one know that you exist?"

He shrugged. "We phased out. Everyone has magic now from the first demons so it's not really...important I guess."

"True but how come demons aren't taking over places like the Overlords?"

"Our powers are dampened a little up here. We're governed by the laws of Mother Nature. In hell, it's a different story."

I fell quiet as my mind made a map with all the information he had given me. I looked down at my black claws and rubbed my fingers together. It felt like I was still in a dream of some sort.

An idea sprung into my head. "Can you teach me how to fly?"

Husker's eyes widened as he looked at my black wings. Then he touched his chin as he thought for a moment. "Sure, why not? But not now..." he motioned for me sit back down. "It's too breezy and there's a storm coming in. Not the best air for learning."

I sat back in the chair and felt the wind. He was right. The wind was stronger and the air smelled more earthy. Speaking of smells, my nose curled when Husker opened another bottle. The alcohol ran straight for my nose and I rubbed at it furiously with the back of my hand.

That's when I noticed my heightened sense of smell. I could smell the old wood of the house, the small fire in the fireplace, and a bunch of other smells I hadn't noticed before. My ears flicked as I picked up the sound of a bird's wings flapping overhead. It flapped its way into the tree line and disappeared back to its nest.

"What is it?" Husker asked.

"I can...I can hear and smell everything." I probably looked like I was in a trance as I walked into the old home to discover the little smells and noises. Everything that was normal sounded so incredibly loud. The small fire crackling sounded like it was right next to me. And of course I could hear Alastor's footsteps as he walked around upstairs.

Husker taught me how to dampen loud noises like the faucet running or the door squeaking open. He made a comment about how I had the most sensitive hearing he’s ever heard of. His tricks helped tremendously to clean up dinner that night.

"Can you show me how you fixed the floor?" I asked him, tapping my clawed feet on the new tile. He looked between me and the floor before agreeing. He always seemed to be a little unsure when I asked him something like that. Was he worried I would use it against him? Or was he worried what Alastor might do?

He went to the study/library and ran his paw across a dusty side table. The top of it came back squeaky clean like it was freshly bought. "Try with one of the legs," he instructed, "Imagine your picking up all the dirt and dust."

The first and second time did nothing. I knew how to use Slight magic so why was Full magic so much harder?

"Use your imagination," he tried next. "And take your time. This is something new."

I clenched my hands into fists for a second before releasing the anger slowly. I took a deep breath. Wrapping my claws carefully around the wood, I dragged my hand down the leg and imagined the wood turning shiny. I opened my eyes and found a clean leg at the very least.

"Keep practicing. You have to exercise your magic muscle," Husker said. 

"Sure."

"You have time tonight. Alastor told me he and Rosie had something to take care of tonight."

"Oh, okay." I tried to hide my disappointment. With every meeting I had with Rosie, the more I discovered about my past. I wanted to remember my mother's face so badly. At the very least I knew she didn't purposefully leave me in the rings. Her hand had been forced.

"Try with something simpler." He held out an old lightbulb.

****

As Husker helped me learn and relearn my physical and magic abilities, I started to notice Alastor watching. If I was outside learning to fly, he was on the porch watching. If I was learning to use Full magic in the field, he was watching from one of the many windows. If I was in the library practicing on different objects, he somehow managed to appear in the sitting room observing me quietly.

I mentioned it to Husker but he simply brushed it off as one of Alastor's weird habits. That didn't mean I had to be okay with it.

Husker was fixing the electricity in the dinning room while I was practicing lighting the fire in the sitting room. I had seen Alastor and Husker snap their fingers but when I did it, nothing happened.

"It's all about intent, dear." I jumped at Alastor's voice. He stood behind me with his hands behind his back like always. The stupid cane was like a third eye for him.

"I've got it." I turned my back to him and stared down at the dead logs. I heard him walk past me and sit in one of the chairs, his red eyes never leaving me. I let out a tense sigh. "What do you want?"

"Absolutely nothing."

I scoffed. "I find that hard to believe." I tried again with the fire but nothing happened. "Why are you always watching me?"

"What ever do you mean, dear?"

"Stop calling me that. And I mean every time I'm doing something you're hiding somewhere watching me."

"Is it a crime to watch my soulmate?"

"Don't call me that either." My tail whipped hard against the floor. I was getting frustrated with him and myself. I knelt down and grabbed one of the embers. I could ignite my own hand but how could I not ignite a simple stick?

"Sometimes it's all about imagination," he said, drumming his claws against his cane. "Surely that's not something you're lacking in."

My lip curled in a snarl. I looked down at the hot ember and put it in the corner of the fire place. I looked at one of the logs and closed my eyes. I remembered seeing Full mages lifting air when they wanted to move something. Maybe I could do something similar.

I turned my hand palm up and pictured small flames sticking out from under the wood. They slowly grew bigger until they were catching the neighboring logs on fire. I felt the heat on my face and snapped my eyes open to a working fire. My shock turned into a smile. I had done it.

"Nicely done," Husker said from the stairwell. I stood up and brushed off my pant leg.

"Yes well done," Alastor commented from his chair. "You've got a lot of potential. We just need to harness it properly."

"We?"

"Yes, we." He stood and stepped up to me. He always came ridiculously close, forcing me to take a step back. I noticed that I had grown an inch or two in my demon form, putting me exactly at his shoulder height. “You and me. And Husker of course. But even he has his limits." I heard an angry cat growl from Husker in the dinning room.

"So now that I have power you're interested all of a sudden."

"Of course," he chuckled. "Before I thought you were a meager human with no redeeming qualities. But now I see you have some sweet secrets hidden in that mind if yours."

"I expect nothing less from the Radio Demon. Everything's some kind of string you can benefit from."

"I'm sure you'll come to understand me the more you discover about your power." He put a hand on my shoulder again.

"I don't think I will." I pulled his hand off.

****

I met with Rosie again but I made zero progress. She told me to write down any dreams or memories I had and to keep practicing with my magic. Apparently, I had gotten over the biggest hill but now everything was slow and steady.

I spent the following days restoring the old house to its proper glory. As slow and tiring as it was, I felt accomplished at the end of every day. I had restored all the flooring so they didn't creak so loudly and cleaned up the walls. Thanks to Husker, working electricity reached all over the house.

The library was the next room to be restored properly. I hated spiders but having magic solved that problem for me. I started practicing with using magic from afar so I didn't have to deal with them. Husker thought it was funny.

"My, I love what you've done to the place." Alastor manifested in the middle of the room. I rolled my eyes and shook the curtains until the dust had disappeared and their true colors shone through. Using magic was getting easier but it still made me exhausted. "I knew this old house just needed a woman's touch."

"Well you sure weren't going to do it," I said as I passed him. I took off the color glass shade of a lamp and ran my hand across it.

"I must say, this type of work suits you better than running about on the streets."

I placed the clean shade back on the lamp and took a deep breath. "You ought to remember I'm not your fucking housewife." I turned to find him barely an inch from me. I tilted my head back to stare up at his angry red eyes. My horns were the only thing that were taller than his shoulders.

"You ought to remember my rule about such foul language. It doesn't suite you."

I licked my lips and swallowed hard. Everything in me tensed as I straightened, closing the distance between us. My hands were sweating. "Fuck. You."

His hand grabbed my jaw and shoved me into the bookshelf. I pulled on his wrist as spit dripped out the corners of my mouth. I couldn't swallow with his hand pressed so tightly under my jaw. Breathing felt like I was sucking air through a pillow.

"Let this be your last warning, darling," the radio static coated his words, "Next time I will silence your defiance for an extended period of time. I'm sure you wouldn't want that." I looked up at his yellow smile with half closed eyes. "Now apologize, dear."

What!?

My tail whipped against the bookshelf and I pressed my claws into his wrist. I couldn't understand how someone of his stature had the strength he had. I wanted to swallow so bad.

"I'm waiting, love."

I felt something sharp poke above my lip. He dragged his claw along my upper lip and pressed it painfully in the corner of my mouth. I whined and tried to drop my weight to no avail.

"Three..." he started counting. I wanted to cough but I didn't dare. He pressed harder into the corner of my mouth. I pushed my foot against his leg but something pulled it back down. I couldn't see what had done it.

"Two..." I could see a mark on the corner of his smile that matched the injury he was giving me.

"One-"

"S-sorry."

"What was that dear?" He turned his head and lessened his assault only slightly.

"I'm s-sorry," I sputtered.

"For what, love?"

"For...for cursing."

"Thank you for the apology, darling." He let go and I stumbled to my knees. I swallowed first before coughing a bunch. I touched the puncture wound in the corner of my mouth. "I do hope you've learned your lesson." His feet melted into the shadows and the next second he was completely gone.

My face was hot with embarrassment. I went to the kitchen and padded my lips with warm water. Husker came to check on me but I waved him off. I know he had witnessed it. Even if he wanted to interfere, I don't think he could.

As terrifying as it was, I wasn't ready to give in so easily. Alastor would learn that he still had to treat me like a normal human being. If there was one thing I had learned from the rings, it was how to never give up.

#alastor the radio demon #alastor x reader #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #soulmate au #soulmates #hazbin husk #hazbin x reader #hazbin hotel husk

[traegorn]

Hey-o! Tis the season for people to talk about how the holidays were "actually pagan" and I'm on the hunt for sources about how that's really not the case, if you have any you'd recommend!

Okay, so the problem is there are so many weird "Christmas is stolen!" bullshit memes going around, it's so hard to just give you a comprehensive list of sources. Christmas celebrations have evolved as the religion has spread, and different things come from different times...

The key here is to go for academic sources. This is a question of history, and a well supported historical research is going to tell you whether they're operating from primary, secondary or tertiary sources.

So while I can't give you a simple list, let me give you a couple of examples off the top of my head and give you tips on how to investigate any the dumb claims that get passed around.

Christmas being in December: So a lot of people go for the "Christmas is in December so it can steal from [INSERT SOLSTICE CELBRATION]" is ahistorical... because we know exactly why Christmas is in December. Because the guys who made the decision argued with each other and left behind written documentation. The two big names you need to look up are  Clement of Alexandria (who pitched January 6th) and Hippolytus of Rome (who proposed December 25th). This is around the turn of the third century, and you can find both of their writings. Some folks have questioned the authenticity of some of Hippolytus of Rome's writings, but Clement of Alexandria's seem well supported. These were internal arguments about when the birth of Christ took place within the early church, and when they settled on late December. There are reasons for this, and you can read their arguments (it largely has to do with the importance of when Jesus was conceived -- they wanted that to be an important date and then added nine months to it). Importantly though, because linear time is a thing, this means Christmas was set in December before the Christianization of the Germanic and Norse tribes... so anyone who says Christmas was set to December to correspond with Yule doesn't understand the concept of "coincidences."

The Christmas Tree: The Christmas tree was invented in 16th century Germany. That's... that's just written down all over the place. Now, there are legends about Martin Luther being the first who did it -- but I'm pretty certain that's just an embellishment that got added on. There are preceding traditions where part of an evergreen was brought into the home as a part of solstice traditions (though some will claim the Egyptians did this? Which is wild -- likely misinterpreting their use of palm fronds as the same thing), but the act of taking a whole ass tree, cutting it down, putting it in your house, and decorating it? That's 16th century Germany all the way. You can rabbit hole so many sources on that one, but honestly just pick apart the citations on the Wikipedia page. Putting a branch in your house and dragging a whole tree in are very different acts.

Jesus's story is copied from [INSERT RANDOM GOD]: There are so many of these, and some are just downright disrespectful to major world religions (the Krishna version of the meme especially). The answer is... just see if what the meme is saying about the god is supported by the mythology. Like I've seen ones that says Dionysus was "born of a virgin." If you know anything about the Greek gods, you're probably already laughing on the floor. Horus gets dragged into this too, because Gerald Massey was trying to pull a "White Goddess but with Dudes." But any serious research on Horus will tell you the supposed parallels aren't supported by the mythology.

So sorry, this wasn't so much sources you can use as it is how to look for them to begin with. Because there's just so, so much. This isn't even covering cases of syncretism, where pre-existing cultural traditions got continued post-Christianization. Because it's almost always the case that if a pre-Christian practice endured post Christianization, it's because people decided to keep doing it -- not because the church was trying to "steal" it. The latter means there was some mustache twirling plan behind it, when the former means (usually) the church went "Well, they're paying their tithes and saying it's for Jesus, so who gives a shit?"

I'm just going to finish this off with linking to my podcast episode on this, along with Ocean Keltoi's great Yule video on the topic. Hopefully that helps.

#witch #witchcraft #witchblr #yule #christmas #christmas tree #pagan

[epiemy]

Jason Todd x Fem!Reader from our reality! Pt. 2

Warnings: just cursing (you’re a crazy bitch and Jason too)

Part 2 of 5 - Part 1

A/N: I missed this app so fucking much but I’m back :) hope you like this part of a series project.

Sorry for Grammar mistakes, enjoy!

"Oh boy, we are going to have a big job with this one." Words from a tired Jason.

“Hey, I’m still here, you know that?” You speak in disbelief. It still felt like a dream, where else would you get to see your favorite characters? You had never been able to shift before, so you faithfully doubted that was the case.

Jason just rolls his eyes saying “Unfortunately I noticed, you won't shut up for a single second” - and there goes your sympathy with him.

“Why are pretty people always jerks? - You're an exception Dick, shush” You say but stop as soon as you see Batman's cloak coming towards you, no longer able to control it, you end up smiling more than you've ever seen in your life, after all he was her childhood hero “My gods, Bruce Wayne? Batman? I could pass out!”

“Jason, no!” Dick speaks in warning before the youngest even opens his mouth, but even so he lets out a sneer and says:

“I could make YOU pass out” Jay mutters and you give him the middle finger “You already did that, idiot”, turning your attention to Bruce.

“Why is there a teenager in the cave, who apparently knows our secret identities? I'm only going to ask once” Batman speaks monotone and looks at the boys with his arms crossed and his mask removed.

“Ehm… well… funny story” Tim starts to say while scratching his head lightly, but Jason rolls his eyes.

“I brought her here, I heard some druggies talking about a girl falling from the sky and I went to check it out. I don't know how a demon can fall from the sky but there she is” He speaks ironically and you just stick out your tongue, murmuring that the only demon in this house was him. The boy continues “When I got close to her, she was cursing more than a sailor and had a fangirl attack shouting “Jaaaaason”, I erased her and brought her here. History end"

Bruce raises an eyebrow at Jason and sighs deeply, rubbing his temples. He honestly needed a break from all this, he couldn't take it anymore. “Currently, Barry informed us that there was a rupture of some barrier between universes caused by some meta, it turns out that she was brought from another reality and that is possibly why she knows our identities. Am I correct, miss..?”

“Y/n, and yes you are right. Finally someone with neurons- no offense Timmy” You mutter and the boy just shrugs, then continues talking “If the kid idiots had listened to me instead of fainting, I would have told them that in my reality you are all characters from a brand , so I theoretically know everything about each of you.” There was a silent pause “That seemed kind of scary, my bad.”

Minutes later, Bruce releases you from the place where you were tied up “As long as we don't know what happened, you are welcome to stay in the mansion, Alfred is already aware of this conversation and will prepare a room for you” He speaks calmly, you he just nods with a small smile in gratitude. He turns to his children “You. I want everyone in the mansion during this time, apparently you don't have an alternative version of her in this universe and she will have to stay here for some time, so we need to train her” He says leaving the Batcave.

“Soooo… Dick, can you and your nice ass show me my new room?” You say with a wide smile and you only hear Jason snort in the corner “What’s up, red bird? Do you want to show me instead of Richard? Come on come on, take me then” A hand sign is made by you, as you walk towards some stairs where Bruce had gone but Jason grabs your waist, changing the direction to the left “Oopsie, thanks kitty” You hear the laughter behind you.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” Jason says, walking up the correct floors with you.

#dc #dick grayson #damian wayne #tim drake #batfam x reader #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #jason todd x reader #jason todd #jason todd fluff #red hood x you #bruce wayne

[pascallatte]

Mando's Lover?

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x Actress!reader

Summary: The Mandalorian interview but why are you included? (read to find out 😉)

Date: August 2019

Taglist: @benonlinear, @t-stark35, @heyitsme-2, @elleeeee21, @holmesstrange, @tagakalat, @flyestvenustrap, @oldermenaremyreligion, @cherryred444, @avengersheart, @guacala, @pukka-latte, @hobiismyhopeu, @lilvampirina, @ilovehotdadsandshit

A/N: AAAAA we're almost entering my favourite part of the series, but, I might post some throwbacks before we head to that though so stay tuned and like always, enjoy!! also kind of a late post but you know. hehe

Series Masterlist

The pair are seen on the red carpet during this year’s D23 Expo on The Mandalorian, which was to be released three months from now.

“Ok I'm gonna recreate your reaction to-being-casted celebration,” the interviewer, Ash, said as she shook hands with Pedro. She recreated his celebratory reaction making Pedro watch as she continued.

“That’s right. It was- it was a three-act event react play. Yeah, it was like “Oh thank you thank you”.. pass out,” He said also reenacting with an exaggerated crying look on his face, clearly having fun at what was happening.

She brings the mic closer to her to ask him her second question, “But can you walk me through actually finding out you were cast as The Mandalorian.” Pedro who was once looking at her intently, turned to look downwards remembering how that day went. 

“Well I got a call and the actual words were “Jon Favreau wants to talk to you about something Star Wars” and so I said absolutely and I went out to meet him at his offices in Playa Vista and he invited me into a room where he introduced me to Dave Filoni and in this room, it was wall-to-wall, immaculate illustrations of this series which is everything Star Wars-”

He continues to share his precious moments before the final revelation, “-And so being a Star Wars fan myself I was like, “oh what’s this” and “oh I remember that” and “what are you gonna do here” and “what do you want me to do?”” Pedro rambles on about asking them what creature, robot, or whatever role they wanted him to audition for before taking a deep breath.

“-and they looked confused and basically pointed to the- this incredible like silhouette of The Mandalorian. He said you’re the, you’re The Mandalorian. So yeah that’s why I- that’s why I sort of died inside of joy.”

Nodding at his response Ash looks at him,” Who was the first person you ever told when you got the job? Since the role became like a very important one for you.”

Scratching the back of his neck, “Well, y/n was picking me up from Jon’s place, so naturally, I told her fir-actually, I freaked out on her. I kept blabbering on things I can’t even remember you know, it must be the adrenaline I felt at that moment. And then- just then did I call my sister, who is a big Star Wars fan, saying how I’m a part of the huge franchise that she loves and now we’ve done and are about to release the first season, it makes me really happy.” Ending his response with a content smile.

“How could you not? I mean, you mentioned you were a Star Wars fan, so what’s your earliest Star Wars memory? Do you remember like-“ Ash inquired once again, wanting to know more about him and his experience as an interviewer.

Pedro enthusiastically blurted out,” I saw Star Wars- I saw episode four in the movie theatre. I was very young so I don’t remember the experience of being in the theatre for it as well as I do the empire strikes back which is burned into my childhood imagination and  I remember like three attempts to get tickets for return of the Jedi and getting my heart broken every time because it was sold out, and then finally getting the tickets and literally you know like staring at the poster being like I’m finally seeing this movie so it was highly present in my childhood. All the toys you know and all the stories yeah.”

“And now you’re in it,” Ash said, seemingly into his history with Star Wars.

Agreeing with her, “And now I’m in it. it’s weird, leading the series”

“Now, back to being an avid Star Wars watcher. What was your reaction when you were first introduced to your now-girlfriend, Y/n L/n, who played the character Sabe in the phantom menace?"

Pedro looks at her with a look that he knows what she was up to and decides to keep it short, "Yeah well like I knew it was her when we first met but I didn’t like barging into her space telling her that I’ve watched her in Star Wars and loved it because that would be weird coming from this guy you’ve never met before. But now, I can say that we’re now also together in another galaxy."

"Did you ever think you would ever meet her in person or like be with her all those years ago?"

Crossing his arms, thinking for a moment, "I didn’t really well- but to start it off I didn’t even think I would be able to meet her in any way, since she was like in the spotlight already at such a young age so I didn’t really think about it. That was until we got introduced that is and it was one of the best moments in my life," finishing it off with a shy smile.

“That’s sweet, do you think we’ll ever see Y/n as part of your series, The Mandalorian?”

“Good question but we haven’t thought about it really. But with the number of times she’s been on set they should’ve made a character just for her don’t you think?” Pedro said laughing. “Last question, what role from The Mandalorian would you think y/n would fit in if she were to be cast?” she quickly stated as their time's almost up.

Pedro gave her a teasing knowing look, “Ummm Mando’s lover, no I'm joking. But maybe someone in the ranks, probably not a Mandalorian cause she'll look-" he makes a tiny sign from his hands, laughing at himself, "-wearing the armour. Maybe a Jedi, we don’t know really, she can play herself actually. She’ll take whatever they give her.”

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal x actress!reader #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fluff #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal x female reader #the mandalorian #the mandalorian s3