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justagalwhowrites · 1 year ago

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TikTok Trend

Beautiful decides to take part in a TikTok Trend with Joel. A New in Town drabble.

^We're borrowing Mr. Ben for a late-40s Joel, OK? I desperately need more gifs of Pedro's Joel from that era, I'm too reliant on other characters and actual Pedro gifs for these fics GIVE ME SOMETHING PLEASE

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader from New in Town

Warnings: Not much! Age gap but not the focus of the fic (reader is 36, Joel is 48). No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ only.

Length: 1.4k

A/N: I got stuck thinking earlier how Joel would react to the "call your boyfriend your husband" trend and this is how I think it'd go. This is set about 3 months before the last chapter of New in Town. This can be read as a stand alone fic with the understanding that reader is Sarah's best friend and Joel and Reader have an established relationship of about a year.

“So what’s this for again?” Joel asked as he sat down at the picnic table in the park.

“It’s a TikTok challenge,” you said, settling in beside him. Joel opened the paper bag the two of you had just gotten from a food truck and started taking out the tacos, putting some in front of you and him.

“Right,” he said. “And… I’m sorry, baby, but what’s the point?”

You laughed as you set your phone against your water bottle so it was propped up and ready to film.

“There isn’t really one, I guess,” you said. “It’s just a fun little video you make and then share. Those interns I have until May are all about it, they were showing me some of theirs the other day. Figure if I work in marketing, I gotta keep up with the trends!”

Joel smiled a little.

“So this is the kind of shit Sarah does, huh?”

“Yeah, she does,” you laughed again. “Her and the interns made one for the company social page the other day, actually.”

“Can I see?” He asked, interest suddenly piqued.

“Sure,” you picked your phone back up and found your company’s TikTok, scrolling to the video and handing it off to Joel.

“We work in marketing, of course we over analyze every ad we see,” Sarah said through your phone, a small smile on Joel’s face as he watched.

It made you smile, too. One of the fun parts about being in the strange middle ground between your boyfriend’s and best friend’s ages was serving as a bit of a translator between them. Joel still didn’t quite get TikTok. Sarah didn’t understand why her dad refused to go all in on streaming and still had cable. You, at least, could see both sides.

But this TikTok effort had nothing to do with Sarah. You did try to keep up with the trends on social media to better craft campaigns and content - capitalizing on trends meant that you had to move quick and you couldn’t afford to be out of touch - but your personal TikTok account was mostly empty. It was pretty private, anyway, shared with only a few close friends like Sarah and Maria. All it had were a few reposts of things you liked, some montages of video snippets from you and Joel’s first vacation together, that sort of thing.

“You should do some of the trends!” Jason, one of your interns, said earlier that day.

“Just being in the loop on trends is plenty for me,” you waved him off but smiled. “I don’t need to participate.”

“But it’s fun!” Kenzie, your other intern said. “They’re not all dances and stuff, you know…”

“I know,” you said. “But it’s just not what I want to spend a lot of time doing is all.”

“Some don’t take much time,” she said, opening her phone and scrolling for a second. “Here, this one’s easy. You said you have a boyfriend, right?”

“I do…”

“Cool,” she said. “So all you do is record yourself making a video where you call your boyfriend your husband, just to see how he reacts. No crazy edits or anything, it’s super easy.”

You caved after some light convincing and came up with a plan to get Joel in front of the camera. You told him it was a spicy food challenge, just to see which of you handled the heat better and, while you knew he wouldn’t really get the point, you knew he’d be supportive. He always was.

But there was something about this trend in particular that made you a little nervous. It’s not like the two of you hadn’t discussed marriage. You’d been together a year now, you’d just moved into his house. It had definitely come up. But it had come up in the way that far off things do, something that might happen some day if things fell into place in just the right way. You didn’t want to push it, didn’t want him to feel rushed or obligated, especially since you’d only been cohabitating about a month. Bringing up marriage - even like this - made you nervous.

“OK I think I get it,” Joel handed you your phone back after watching Sarah’s video twice. “But we’re not doin’ that same thing, right?”

“Nope,” you said. “We’re going to see who handles the spice better.”

“Think we both know which one of us is gonna win that one, Beautiful,” he teased, nuzzling his nose against your temple before kissing your cheek. “Us southern men are made of sterner stuff…”

“Yeah yeah,” you rolled your eyes but smiled, leaning close to him. “We’ll just see about that.”

You set your phone up to record again, propping it against your water bottle.

“Here, you gotta get in close because the TikTok format is vertical,” you said and Joel adjusted so you were half beside and half in front of him, his arm going around your waist, hand finding your hip, thumb slipping up below your shirt to find your bare flesh above the band of your pants and brushing you slowly, sensually there. You gave him a look.

“What?” He asked, brows raised, smile barely contained.

“Don’t act all innocent,” you shook your head. “You know exactly what you’re doing…”

“C’mon,” he said. “Let’s make your little TikTik video…”

“TikTok,” you rolled your eyes but adjusted yourself, your heart pounding.

“Whatever the kids are using now,” he said. “Because the sooner we’re done the sooner I can get you home…”

“Alright, I’m going to record,” you cut him off. “Behave yourself!”

“Always do, Beautiful.”

You rolled your eyes again but took a deep breath, leaned forward and pressed record.

“Hi everyone,” you smiled, watching the recording of you and Joel as it was made on the screen. “I’m here with my husband and we’re going to do the spicy food challenge…”

“Your what?” He cut you off and you turned so you could see him a little better.

“What?”

“Did…” he paused, looking at you like he wasn’t sure if you were losing it or he was. You weren’t sure if that was good or bad. “Did you just call me your husband?”

“Yeah,” you shrugged, turning back to the camera. “Anyway, my husband and I both really love spicy food and…”

You didn’t get a chance to finish your sentence. Joel grabbed your chin almost roughly, pulling you around to face him and all but crushed his lips against yours, clutching you close, kissing you deep and hard, like he couldn’t get enough of you. When he finally let you go, you looked at him and laughed a little, watching him.

“What was that for?” You asked.

“You wanna call me your husband?” He asked, a serious look on his face. “Beautiful, we will go to the courthouse right this damn second, don’t tempt me…”

“Joel, it’s 7 p.m.,” you laughed. “The courthouse is closed.”

“Don’t care,” he said, giving you a quicker kiss this time. “C’mon, we’ll grab Sarah on the way, see if Tommy wants to meet us…”

“That’s all it takes, hm?” You teased, heart pounding but for a good reason now. “Just me slipping up and calling you my husband and you’re ready to run down the aisle?”

“Baby, I’ve been ready to run down the aisle for about a year,” he pressed his forehead to yours. “Just been waitin’ on you to catch up.”

“Well,” you kissed him softly. “I’m more than caught up. But think I’m still gonna make you ask.”

“Good luck stopping me,” he said, kissing you again, longer this time, needier, until you pulled away with a groan. “Forget this food challenge, I gotta get you home and devour you. Let’s go, wife.”

You laughed and stopped the recording on your phone, saving the video to drafts as Joel gathered up the food. You made the mental note to edit out that last part before posting, no need for the interns or Sarah to know quite that much about your sex life.

“Sorry for ruining your little video,” he said as you started back toward the car. “We can try again later, promise to actually behave myself then…”

“That’s alright,” you smiled, lacing your fingers with his. “I already got everything I need.”

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x oc #new in town

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psychesalcove · 4 months ago

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i have emotional motion sickness, somebody roll the windows down.

♡ tyler hernandez x fem. reader

sypnosis. tyler knew that the phantom realm wasn't a friendly place. it didn't have mercy on anyone—including his girlfriend, you. he knew he should never let his gaurd down, but the one time he did, it ended up harming you.

tw. tree incident just with reader instead of tyler lol, i used google translate for spanish so it's prob wrong (i apologize my spanish speakers😓), blood gore things as usual, not proofread :`(, shitty writing lmao

"jesus christ," tyler heart ashyln mutter from a couple feet in front of him. that wasn't the first bad sign. tyler was already close to an anxiety attack—he could feel the quickening of his breath and heart, and the buzzing feeling in his head.

he knew, he knew that he should have been more careful with you. he didn't want to seem to protective; you could handle your own out here. but this time—the one time he wasn't paying to much attention to you, the worst situation happened. he saw just the last of it; taylor screaming your name as you flew out of the car.

he should have been there to save you.

right now all he could do was walk up to where ashlyn was, hoping that whatever she was seeing wasn't the senario he was playing out in his head. as soon as he layed his eyes on you, his past made up situation didn't seem to bad.

it looked like you were still alive, coughing up blood, creating an awful gurgling sound from your throat. tyler held back a sob as he started running over to you. "what are you doing idiot?!" he yelled behind him, where ashlyn was still standing. at his voice, ashlyn jumped into action, following tyler up to the tree where you (and hopefully not just your body) was.

first and hardest step: getting you off of the tree. he tried to be as gentle with you as possible, but going slow seemed to only create more pain for you. "tyler." ashlyn stated, overwhelmingly calm for the situation they where in. he didn't trust his voice, so he simply nodded while still staring at your bloodied face. "we need to lift her up faster," she explained simply, as if she was just giving directions for a presentation project.

he guessed that's why she was the leader—she knew how to stay calm in these types of situations, whereas tyler was near hyperventilation territory. he nodded again, moving his arms to your back as ashlyn did the same for your other side.

"sorrysorrysorry.." tyler muttered as they started lifting your body. hearing your broken whimpers and whines from the pain nearly broke him, but his priority right now was getting you safe; he could deal with his emotions later.

⊹ ࣪ ˖

they laid you onto the ground, your coughing still persistent and not letting up. tyler then allowed his eyes to roam over your body, now seeing the extent of your injuries. "santa mierda..."

he didn't have much time to do anything before ben was gently pulling him away from you; causing tyler to glare at him. "the hell are you doing?" he asked, not moving away from you. ben only looked at him with sympathy.

taylor came up grabbed his hand. "let ben help her," she said gently, though she looked terrified while saying it. he surprisingly listened to her, but he was as close to you as he could be without getting in the way. "she'll be fine," taylor whispered to him—though he wasn't sure if it was for his comfort or hers. he didn't respond, but he held onto taylor's hand tighter. he could only hope that you'll be okay.

⊹ ࣪ ˖

after what seemed like hours, ben finally stepped away from you. tyler immediately rushed up to you—dropping to the ground in record time. the rest of the group decided to stay back, wanting tyler to get collected before they approached the two of you.

it seemed that you had passed out; which wouldn't be to suprising, considering the injuries you has sustained. tyler put his hand under your neck, supporting your head so it wasn't at an awkward angle. "m'so so sorry cariño.." he muttered lightly, head still swimming with anxiety.

he was usually better at managing his attacks, but without you there, it definitely made an impact. "you're safe now. i promise." tyler countined—his head still had the buzzing sensation of dizziness due to his short intake of breath.

"im so sorry i wasn't there. ill try harder next time, i promise." he finished, bringing his free hand to grasp your limp hand. "you'll be okay. you'll be fine—"

"tyler, we need to start going; phantoms will start being attracted to this area." ashyln said, walking up to tyler and putting a hand on his shoulder. "we'll all keep her safe." she added, noticing tyler's hesitation with getting up.

he nodded to her again and silently got up, ever so gently carrying you with you. taylor smiled at him from where she stood by aiden. 'she'll be okay,' she mouthed to him. he didn't have it in him to say anything back, but the words swirled in his head.

"i'll never let something like that happen again to you." he whispered into your ear, praying that in your unconscious state you could still hear him. "i promise."

title: motion sickness — phoebe brigers

ALSO! I got this idea from other fics that are the same premise, so creds to them for the plot of the fic 😛😋

#psyches writes ཐིཋ๋ྀ࣭⭑#sbg x you #sbg #school bus graveyard x reader #school bus graveyard #sbg x reader #tyler hernandez x yn #tyler hernandez x you #tyler hernandez #tyler hernandez x reader #sbg webtoon

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se4ttlellie · 1 month ago

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YOU’RE HIS AND NOT MINE - E.WILLIAMS (PART 2)

Warnings : SMUT, wlw relationship, head (reader receiving), kissing, cheating, AU, use of y/n, cuddling, fingering (Ellie receiving), use of pet names, swearing

Summary : In which, the reader can’t get Ellie’s confession off of their mind and finally gives in to temptation

Authors Note : This is part 2 of my series and I hope you guys are loving it! I can’t lie, this is my first time writing gl/wlw smut so you’re gonna have to bear with me, I will try my best. If you are reading this and you haven’t read part one and you want to, I would suggest you go for the plot. You can read it here. Enjoy! <3

Purple is y/n

Green is Ellie

Blue is Ben

Italics is flashbacks

__________________________________________

It’s been three days since Ellie confessed her feelings to you and you are still very confused about how you feel about it

You are currently lay in bed with your boyfriend after you two made up and all you can think about is Ellie’s words… “you’re his and not mine.”

You and Ben made up yesterday because he bought you flowers and properly apologised instead of half heartedly and angrily apologising like last time.

“Baby… I’m so sorry,” your boyfriend says, holding a bouquet of flowers as he stands at your doorstep. You really want to be mad at him but you truly can’t.

You and Ben talked it out and, eventually, you came to an agreement that he would apologise to Ellie and would only speak to her if he really needed to.

As you are laid in bed, cuddled into Ben’s side, you’re trying to watch a movie together but the scene with Ellie keeps playing over in your head like a broken record.

Part of you wants to jump into Ellie’s arms and kiss her until she can’t breathe but, the logical part of you is reminding yourself that you have a boyfriend, who, despite everything, you love so much.

You and Ellie haven’t spoken much since she told you about her feelings because you are trying not to let temptation get the better of you and she thinks she has ruined her chances with you.

When you feel your boyfriend’s hand in your hair, gently scratching your scalp, you are broken out of your trance.

When you look up at him, he is still watching the movie and, when he notices you looking at him, he looks down at you with a smile and a kiss on the forehead.

You smile back at him, leaning up and pressing a small kiss to his lips. You turn your attention back to the movie, trying to distract yourself from your thoughts of Ellie.

After a while, your impulses take over and you quickly get out of bed, changing out of your pyjamas and into something else. You quickly kiss Ben and he looks extremely confused.

“Sorry, darling. I’ve got to go and help my mum with something. She asked me yesterday but I forgot about it.”

“Oh okay, I’ll see you in a bit then. I love you.”

“See you later. I love you too.”

You practically run out of the front door, grabbing your keys and getting in the car. The second you sit down in the drivers seat, you start to second guess yourself.

Sighing, you almost get out of the car and go back inside but you don’t. All you can think about is Ellie. You start your car and drive over to Ellie’s house.

When you get there, you knock on the door and wait for someone to answer. Thankfully, Ellie opens the door and, before she can get a word in, you press your lips to hers.

She stumbles back a little, surprised by your sudden kiss but she doesn’t push you off. She grabs your waist gently and pulls you closer to her, closing the front door with her foot.

You wrap your arms around her neck, deepening the kiss. She starts to kiss you back even more, pulling you impossibly closer to her chest.

When you finally pull away for a bit of air, her eyes are wide and she looks extremely shocked. You try to go back for more but she stops you.

“Y/n…? I’m not mad that you’re here but what the fuck are you doing?”

“I couldn’t get what you said out of my head and I knew, deep down, that I’ve wanted this for a while.”

“I want this too but... what about Ben?”

“I don’t know…”

You sigh, feeling really guilty now. You know that this is exactly what you want but, now that she has brought up Ben, it brings you back to how wrong you know this is.

She gently grabs your waist, hesitation in her eyes as she does so because, she too knows that this is wrong.

“I mean… if this is really want you want, who am I to stop you?”

You smirk and wrap your arms around her neck, moving closer. You do want this. A lot. You can deal with the consequences later, right?

“Fuck it.”

You lean in, kissing her again with the same passion and desire as before. She pulls you closer again, her hands roaming your body as you quietly moan against her lips.

When you pull away again, you grab her hand, running upstairs and into her bedroom. You slam the door shut, even though there is no one there to interrupt.

You push her against the back of the door, kissing her again and breaking the connection every now and then to remove an article of clothing. First your shirt, then your trousers, then her shirt, then her trousers.

When you are both down to pants and a bra, she pushes you down onto her bed. You giggle, eyes wide at her boldness but pull her on top of you, kissing her once more.

She stands back, running her hand down your body and admiring you black, lace two piece underwear and bra set.

“Wore this just for me, huh?”

“Sure.”

You both smile and laugh, helping her take off your bra. When you are exposed to her on your top half, you get a little self conscious but, that all melts away when she starts kissing your chest gently, treating your body like an antique.

You moan, gripping her hair and running your fingers through her auburn locks. She looks up at you, smiling as she takes your nipple into her mouth softly.

You moan even louder, your head falling back onto the bed. Your eyes roll back as she looks up, extremely proud that she has got you like this when she is usually so shy and quiet and now, she is a little freak.

You start to feel her kisses move downwards, slowly moving down to where you need her most. She hooks one finger into the waistband of your underwear and the other rests on your waist.

“Can I?”

“Fuck yeah…”

She smirks at your needy reply and slides off your underwear, kissing your inner thighs, just to tease you.

“Shit, Ellie. Please.”

Slowly, she pushes your thighs apart, swallowing hard at your dripping wet heat. She starts to get a little nervous as she has only done this once before but she goes for it.

She buries her head between your thighs, starting to lick up and down your slit. You moan out again, gripping her hair and pushing her face into your pussy even more.

The sound of your moans is like an aphrodisiac to her, immediately encouraging her to carry on, her tongue working magic on your clit.

Your hand that isn’t in her hair grips onto the sheets, balling it up into your fist, your back arching off of the mattress a little bit.

You feel yourself getting close and you let out a little, desperate whimper and push Ellie’s head even further as your thighs start to shake.

“Fuck- Ellie… I’m gonna-“

You can’t even finish your sentence before moaning out for the last time and finishing on her face, gently squeezing your thighs around her head.

She moves her head from between your thighs, her face covered in your cum. You softly laugh, wiping off her face with your t-shirt that has been discarded on the floor.

She leans into your touch, probably more than she would like, holding your arm as she looks at you with soft eyes.

“Ellie… you’re so fucking good at that.”

“Thank you.”

She smiles and lays down on your chest, expecting to be done. You look down, stroking her hair and kissing her head.

“Come on. Lay down. Your turn.”

“Wha-“

She isn’t able to finish her sentence before you’ve flipped her over, laying her down on the bed with you on top of her now.

You start to remove her sports bra and her underwear, kissing her neck and shoulder. She wraps her arms around you desperately, already a whiny mess.

A soft kiss is pressed to her temple before you start to move down. You waste no time pushing her legs apart and running your fingers up and down her heat.

Even before you’ve properly touched her, she is a mess. Moaning, groaning, gripping onto you, breathing heavily. It’s so cute.

You slowly slide a finger into her, holding her waist with your other hand to stabilise her. Her hips buck up to meet your hand, grinding onto your finger.

“Oh my fucking god… mmm.”

You start to move your finger in and out of her, curling it inside of her to meet her soft spot, causing her to whine and whimper.

You interlock your other hand with hers, holding onto her hand tightly as you slowly add a second finger. She jolts a little from being filled up but throws her head back, squeezing your hand.

Moving up the bed, you start to kiss her while your fingers stay firmly inside her. She kisses you back with increased fervour, using her free hand to pull you closer, her hand on the back of your head.

As you kiss her, you can still taste yourself on her lips. You pull her closer, starting to kiss her neck again.

She lets out little moan into your mouth, her legs starting to shake too. She squeezes her legs shut, trapping your hand in between her thighs.

Her hand squeezes yours even tighter as she finishes, screaming out your name in ecstasy. Her head falls back onto the bed, feeling spent as you gently pull your fingers out of her.

You look into her lidded eyes, seductively licking your fingers as she breathlessly laughs, pulling you closer by your waist.

“Fuck…”

“Good?”

“Hell yeah. I’ve only ever done that to someone else so, damn… that was an experience.”

You laugh, lying down on her chest and she wraps her arm around you. She rests her chin on your head, kissing your hair.

You both end up staying like that for a little while, lay in each other’s arms. Eventually, you change into one of her oversized t-shirts just so that you’re a little bit covered but you still don’t have underwear on.

She moves her hand down to your waist, slowly inching it down towards your ass before letting her hand rest on your butt. You giggle and look up at her, kissing her again but softer this time.

“I don’t know if I should feel bad about this or not…”

“Me either. Because, it was amazing but like… Ben, you know?”

“Yeah I know. Are you gonna tell him?”

“I’ll probably crumble when I see him but I’ll try not to for both of our benefit.”

She nods and kisses your forehead. Then, you get a message from Ben. Your eyes go wide and you look up at Ellie.

“Shit. Speak of the devil.”

You open the message and you are relieved when he is just asking if you’re okay because you’ve been away for a while. Luckily, he doesn’t suspect anything.

Hey babe. Are you alright because you’ve been out for a while x

Yeah, thanks, I’m alright. I won’t be long, my mum just ended up making some food for me x

Okay, I love you and I’ll see you soon x

I love you too x

You sigh, feeling guilty now that you read his messages. You look up at Ellie and she kisses you again.

“More?”

You laugh and kiss her back, still feeling a little guilty but also, not able to deny Ellie when she is being all sweet and needy like this.

She nuzzles her head into your shoulder and you play with her soft, short hair before kissing her forehead.

“Ellie. I’m gonna have to go in a minute.”

She doesn’t respond, she just nods, not wanting to let you go. Eventually, she lets you go and you get redressed.

Ellie puts on the shirt you were wearing and walks you downstairs, kissing you again before letting you go, holding the kiss for longer than you should.

“Okay… I’ll text you when I can.”

“Alright. Tonight was great.”

“I know, it was.”

There is a sweet silence as both of you stare into each other’s eyes for a second and she pulls you into a hug.

You rest your head on her shoulder, kissing her behind her ear before squeezing her one more time and reluctantly saying your goodbyes before walking out of the door.

__________________________________________

Taglist : @elliesanqel @ellieslvvt @bloodywilliams @ashlynlovestlou

#ellie williams #ellie x reader #ellie x fem reader #ellie the last of us #ellie tlou #lgbtq #wlw #wlw post

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hyperpotamianarch · 1 month ago

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All right, guys, I get it. People like Percy Jackson posts, people don't like posts about Yo’av ben Tzəruya. The ridiculous part is, it's not even my Percy Jackson post! It's just my specific reblog to someone else's Percy Jackson post. It's possible that it's popular because it's specifically about shipping and parallels to Greek myth. Who knows.

I shouldn't be annoyed. It's just people encountering this guy's Percy Jackson post. But why, oh why does it appear that so many of them encountered specifically my reblog?

Anyway, I wanted to write a little more about Yo’av. Because, like, I've just read about his joining Adoniya's supporters and about his eventual death by the hand of Bənayahu ben Yehoyada‘. There's material there to talk about. But honestly, at this point, I'm just going to sound like a broken record- TO ANYONE WHO READ MY ORIGINAL POST ABOUT HIM, THAT IS!

Sorry, sorry, that came off as a little unhinged. But people here talk about Tanach fandom, wondering if it exists - but are apparently busy only with the shipping. I get why gay representation in the Tanach is important to you, but can't you also engage with deep dives about this character who murders people out of loyalty to the uncle who really didn't want these people dead?

Maybe I should've tried figuring out Avishay, he's more tricky. He's the first of Tzəruya's sons to get mentioned, even though I believe he's called "the brother of Yo’av". He stands by Yo’av's side, but the most he ever does is suggest to David that they should kill someone, then actually obey when David tells him not to. He cooperates with Yo’av on killing Avner, but that's in vengence for ‘asa’el. He's mostly a part of the supporting cast, really.

Anyway, why is shipping so popular with people?

#ranting #a little #jumblr #judaism #tanach #yo’av ben tzəruya #avishay ben tzəruya #a mention of PJO #not spamming tags #trutharchivist

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candle-lamp · 9 months ago

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Rereading SBB and writing what I notice: Episode 31-40:

- phantom npc pose

- Aiden jumping off the bus, Taylor holding the ladder for Logan, Ben holding Logan’s gun

- Aiden going “oop” when Ashlyn reacts to Taylor wanting to stay put

- the rest of the gang looking awkward while Ash and Tyler are arguing

- Ashlyn decided to become the leader out of guilt and I feel like that’s underused by the fanbase

- Aiden being like “hurry up or I’m jumping the wall by myself”

- Taylor’s pep talk saves the day, honestly the group would’ve probably torn themselves apart without her there

- I love Ashlyn’s parents but what the heck were they thinking putting knives in her shoes when she was a kid

- Taylor and Ben standing together before they leave for the jeep

- Logan’s injuries fading to a scar in about a month

- party walkers!

- Aiden “I’m durable!” Clark

- the concerned faces of everyone when he jumped

- “I need a document for work and because the author needs a reason for you to grab your keys, it’s trapped in here”

- you can see the phantom that grabs Ash a few panels before

- Ashlyn coming up with “Mr Durable”

- first time we see Aiden really not smiling

- the phantom understanding Ashlyn (before getting boinked)

- Tyler carrying Ash, Ben carrying Aiden, also Taylor can drive (not well)

- Ben protecting Aiden and Ashlyn in the backseat

- Tyler getting sick (motion sickness, stress, both?)

- everything becomes more saturated as Taylor celebrates

- Aiden being the one to complement Logan’s shot (Aidlo shippers come get your juice)

- Logan previously practiced with Aiden’s airsoft gun (who let him have that?)

- happy Ashlyn (only possible when concussed)

- crane base is a warehouse somewhere in the woods

- the gang being goofy in the bg while Ashlyn hears the guy spying

- “EXAMS!! sobbing, crying, the end is near”

- the recording devices bug out in the graveyard

- bald crane is Ryan

- hooded crane refers to “both sides”, who are they talking about?

- tour guide is Jasmine

- Jasmine has takeout like she mentioned in her first appearance

- Jasmine can see the rift

- what is the crane’s “cause” they keep referring to?

- Ash’s dad “maybe we should call an exorcist?”

- still lots of questions about Ashlyn’s connection to the phantoms

- the twins telling Ash and Aiden to work things out bc they’re ruining the vibe

- Aidlyn hug <3333

- “you seemed like the type of person who wouldn’t become close to someone unless they were actually special to you” Aiden my boy do you hear yourself

- “*correct. you’re both socially inept”

- Tyler calling them cringy

- Logan comforting Ben after midterms, everyone looking depressed and Aiden just having a snack

- Ashlyn’s parents talk to Aiden’s parents

- Ash’s dad adding an extra seat to fit all the kids (he’s such a good dad I love him)

- Ashlyn that is not a safe way to sit in a car

- neither Ashlyn or Logan had ever been to an arcade

- Ashlyn plays DDR

- group study session where Tyler has given up and is just laying with a book on his face

- more Aidlyn moments

- Taylor also plays DDR

- Ashlyn giving advice on the basketball game

- Logan taking an air hockey puck to the face

- Logan destroying Ben in a shooting game

- Ben winning a ton of tickets from a strength game, Taylor clapping

- ew Barron

#sbg #sbg (webtoon)#ashlyn sbg #aiden sbg #ben sbg #taylor sbg #tyler sbg #logan sbg

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fmajorenthusiast · 4 days ago

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What are Rocky Horror characters favourite and least favourite song from each production (1973 & 74 stage productions, 1975 movie, 2015 live show, and 2016 remake)?

AAAAAHHHH I LOVE IT SM TYTYTYYYYY

(I love every single song on most of the soundtracks generally speaking so this was fun LOLLL)

Frank: As a rule, you will find that Frank's favorites are ALWAYS his numbers!!! They rank highest no matter what!!! For 1973, it's I'm Going Home because he loves the way that all of the emotions sound, it made him cry when he heard it! For 1974, it's Sweet Transvestite as he feels it's "fully blossomed!" With the better recording studio! He loves it so much!!! For the movie, he loves Planet Schmanet as he thinks it blossomed once it was transposed into this key!!! He's so thrilled with it!!! In 2015, he loves his parts in the Floor Show!!! He thinks it's done so masterfully!! And in 2016 he loves I Can Make You A Man!!!! Basically, he's obsessed with himself but a different number stands out to him as the most wonderful every time! He loves it so much!!! And, if you say anything bad about any performance of any of his numbers, he will SCREAM! It doesn't matter if he agrees with you, he will scream. And yknow what? That's fair!

Frank's least favorites: Frank does NOT like the way that Hot Patootie steals his thunder!!! In 1973 that song hit and he wanted to scream like never before!!!! By 1974, he realized that he also loathed Toucha Toucha for a very similar reason! He did not like to be witness to Janet fucking Rocky! Especially not when she had as sexy of a voice as Abigale Haness!!! It made him SO jealous!!! When it came time for the movie, he wanted to cut what he deemed "boring" and was THRILLED when they cut Once in a While! In 2015, they changed it a bit and he liked it good enough! However, he really didn't like Dammit Janet because he thought that romance was disgusting and boring and icky! And he's wrong but still! In 2016, found himself right back to hating Hot Patootie!!! They cast a celebrity like Adam Lambert??? He's about ready to go insane! But we love him for it!!!

Brad: Brad loves the songs that don't super overwhelm him!!! He's got a lot of love for Once in a While in the 1973 recording because of how gentle it is, and he likes its beat in the 1974 recording, too!!! In the movie, he loves Dammit Janet! It reminds him of how much he loves his woman and he thinks that its such a fun number! In the 2016 version that favoritism holds up because he finds Ben Forster's Once in a While to be more pop-ish and less and acoustic! He loves the poppiness in Dammit Janet though, it feels just right!!! He loves Superheroes in the 2016 version!!! Its the song he listens to when he's crying, and I think that that's a fantastic choice on his part!!!

Brad's least favorites: Brad is on the other side of the equation in, like Frank, having a reason for not liking Toucha Toucha all that much sometimes! On one hand, it's his wife's big number and he loves it so much, on the other hand, she is in fact singing about how enthusiastic she is to fuck another man! And he's not thrilled about that!!! In 1973, that was really the first thing on his mind!! He also gets really frustrated at Planet Schmanet once it comes out in 1974! That's so his wife goddamn it!!! This isn't fair!!!! In the movie, he's really pissed at Sweet Transvestite as well because he really did just wanna use that telephone and it's getting really irritating that he isn't getting it!!! Also, he's upset that they cut his verse in Over at the Frankenstein Place! His number AND his verse??? Really??? In 2015, he doesn't like I Can Make You a Man or it's reprise because he feels really intimidated, and in 2016 he just kinda feels put off by the Time Warp! He can't say what it is, but this time it feels weird!!! He likes it in some other versions, though!!

Janet: in the 1973 cast recording, Janet LOVES Science Fiction Double feature!!! She finds it so gentle and happy and she can't BELIEVE that that's Magenta's voice!!! In 1974 she loves The Sword of Damocles because she finds Kim Milford's voice to be very sexy!!! The status on that song winning remains the same in the movie, as well as adding on Planet Schmanet, because Frank is sexy, and Toucha Toucha because it's such a great representation as to who she is!!! She also loves Over at the Frankenstein Place!! In 2015 her favorite is "I Can Make You a Man" because she finds both Dominic Anderson and David Bedella to be attractive muscley men! In the 2016 remake, her favorite song is Dammit Janet because she finds it so sweet and, like Brad, it reminds her of their love!!!

Janet's least favorites: Janet has been scared of the Time Warp since day one!!! She can't really say why, but she has been!!! And 1973 started that unchanging and hilarious trend!!! In 1974, she also didn't like Eddie's Teddy because she thought it was just too sad!!! She wants numbers that are happier than that!!! By the movie, she had that same problem with I'm Going Home!!! Knowing that he's going to die really hurts that number!!! In 2015 the Time Warp scare really does get a special bonus given that she has to actually JOIN the dance at the end, and in 2016 she just really doesn't like what they did with Toucha Toucha! She can't hear herself all that well!!!

Riff Raff: Riff has ALWAYS adored the Time Warp but in 1973, he didn't find it to be as animated as it could've been during the ensemble parts so his favorite song is Science Fiction Double Feature!! He feels like it's a lullaby!!! The other number that he always loves is his part in Wild and an Untamed Thing when he takes over of course!!!! 1974? Oh he is FEELING the Time Warp! He is FEELING it!!!! Bruce Scott's vocals go OFF! As for the movie, he adores the Time Warp as well!!! Richard Obrien is SLAYING!!! He also, once again, is taken back to a love of Science Fiction Double Feature with his voice and Magenta's lips!!! It feels just right!!! He loves his sister so much!!! For the 2015 version, he's got some more favorites to add on!!! He finds Over at the Frankenstein Place to be a really lovely and soothing melody, and he also actually LOVES Superheroes once it's in this version! It was probably the way that they transposed it into B flat, but it made him cry and feel things!!!! In 2016, he finds himself to be taken with Hot Patootie actually! He finds that its a really fun beat and he loves it so much!! It puts a smile on his face!!! Also he loves to see the attention get taken away from Frank, of course!!!

Riff Raff's least favorites: Riff's least favorites are quite consistent across the board!!! First of all, he thought that Sweet Transvestite was gonna be the worst thing that he'd ever heard! From the moment he heard it, he'd started writing in new and different lyrics in his head, because Frank is many things, but to him, sweet is most certainly not one of them!!! I Can Make You a Man, however? Oh he wanted to explode. He saw the pun and he would have loved the pun if it weren't for the fact that Frank did not make Rocky!!! Its basically "I'm Stealing the Credit: The Song!" To Riff's ears!!! That being said, the 1974 version of Planet Schmanet specifically also makes him want to rip his ears off and the movie version of Don't Dream it Be it stresses him out a lot! And in 2015 he felt like he could've gotten a bit more out of I'm Going Home, which is a number that he usually enjoys because he finds it funny! And in 2016 not too much was different!! He was just kinda irritated in general at the same stuff, not much new, but that's ok!

Magenta: Magenta's favorite numbers often revolve around the situation and how funny she finds it to be!!! I'm Going Home is her favorite in the 1973 recording because she will ALWAYS remember the first time she heard that swan song!!!! She laughed her ASS off and will continue to do so for the rest of her life!!! In 1974, that record HELD! She did really love Abigale Haness's vocals as well, though! She thought that they were legitimately very sexy! In the movie, she got a MASSIVE kick out of Toucha Toucha! She laughed her ass off!!! Janet was having SUCH an awakening and she was THERE for it!!! She also LOVED Planet Schmanet! Frank was so feisty and clueless and had no idea that he was about to lose!!! In 2015, she loved Hot Patootie because she honestly just thought that it was a whole lot of fun!!! And in 2016 she loved Rose Tint my World!!! She loves the numbers that are upbeat good times and it's even better when someone is being, in her eyes, very very funny! And she's not wrong!!!

Magenta's least favorites: Magenta has never been thrilled about Once in a While! She finds it pleasant and she doesn't not like it, she's just hoping for a bit more excitement out of a number!!! In 1973 she just didn't see a whole lot there!!! Along with boredom, she also runs into problems mostly when she feels fed up with people!!! In 1974 she was a bit irritated at Sweet Transvestite! It's a great song and she'll admit to that, but after living in Frank's house for a while, she really does want to tell him to shut up! In the movie, once she was really watching, she found Dammit Janet irritating because she finds the romance to be childlike and she wants to get to the action!!! She's wrong for not liking it but still!!! In the 2015 version she also got a bit tired at Eddie's Teddy! She was like "yeah I know. Can we get to the part where hes dead, please?" And again, she's wrong! But still! And in 2016 she was right back to being frustrated at Dammit Janet! She's here to see what Brad and Janet do once they're in the castle, not before!!! She's mainly frustrated when she's bored or irritated at the character who's singing! She may not be right, but it's how she feels!

Columbia: Columbia loves LOTS of songs in the show!!!! Her first love is always gonna be Hot Patootie!!! The 1973 version literally opens with her screaming Eddie's name!!! Of course she always screams his name prior to the song, but this time it actually made it into the cast recording!!! Still though, that scream tells you all you need to know!!! For the second placers, however, Dammit Janet is the winner in 1973 because she loves how upbeat it is!!!! In 1974 she loves Toucha Toucha because she also finds it hilarious like her buddy Magenta!!! This is her favorite version of the song, though! In the movie, she loves the Time Warp!!! Its so vibrant and alive and ecstatic and she LOVES to do that tap routine!!! In 2015, she adores Eddie's Teddy!!! She's obsessed with her high note and she loves that version of the song and her verses!!! She also loves her Eddie, so that makes it extra special!!! In the 2016 version, she loves Sweet Transvestite!!! Generally speaking, she also adores Rose Tint my World and Wild and Untamed Thing!! She loves the fast paced and fun numbers, and she's very right to!!!

Columbia's least favorites: Columbia isn't big on the numbers that she finds to be downers! The sad ones just don't do much for her!!!! She isn't a big fan of I'm Going Home because it makes her cry too much!!! Especially in the 1973 version with all the extra tears and whatnot!!! Superheroes also makes her cry, and 1974 really highlighted that one!!! Those two remain pretty consistent throughout the other versions and she was really relieved when they cut Superheroes from some of the movie's releases!!!! Also she SOBBED when she saw herself hugging Frank during the 2015 version of I'm Going Home!!! And in 2016 she just cried at both!!!! She's here for a good time and the emotional aspect makes her a bit stressed! She LOVES what she loves though!!!

Rocky: Rocky also loves the upbeat numbers!!! In the 1973 version, he loves Sweet Transvestite!!!! It feels like Frank and it's so upbeat and he loves it!!! In 1974, he developed a love of The Sword of Damocles! It's his own number and he adores it!!! He's dancing around so much!!! When it came to the movie, he LOVED Hot Patootie!!! It felt so bouncy and alive and he felt like he and everyone else could just give in to how fun it was!!!! (Frank does NOT like that this is his pick for the movie, but it is!!!) In 2016, he loved the Time Warp because he felt that it gave him that same perfect sensation!!! Finally, in 2016 he loved Toucha Toucha!!! He felt that it was so springy and lively and he felt so admired!!! And he should because he's amazing!!!!

Rocky's least favorites: Like Columbia, Rocky's never been big on the sadder numbers!!!! I'm Going Home makes him scared in a way! (He doesn't mind Superheroes, though, because it's called Superheroes and he LOVES Superheroes and wants to be one one day!!!) He really just doesn't like I'm Going Home across the board because it makes him feel really lonely! Also, in the movie version specifically for some reason (probably because there wasn't a rock n roll voice to smooth it out for him) he didn't like Eddie's Teddy either because it made him cry for poor Eddie!!! He wants him to be happy, and that's an amazing thing to want!!! For the rest of the versions, he loves that song, and the same categories remain!!!

Eddie: Like Columbia, Eddie's favorite is Hot Patootie across the board!!! He really loves that rock n roll and he is HERE for it!!! His second placers are the Time Warp in 1973 because of how fun it is! It feels like a rock number to him!!! He also loves the way that Toucha Toucha ends with Hot Patootie and he was pissed as FUCK when they cut that later!!! In 1974, he really loves Eddie's Teddy and the way that Meatloaf sings it!!! Its really a miracle that he's able to like that number given that it's about how much of a fuck up he is, but Meatloaf makes it happen!!! In the movie, he really loves I Can Make You a Man and its reprise!!! He thinks that they're so powerful and he gets a MASSIVE kick out of the electric guitar on Here Comes the Bride at the end!!! He nudges Columbia every time as if to say, "girl, that's you!" And he's not wrong!!! In 2015 he loves Planet Schmanet for how wild it goes! He honestly loves all of the harmonies at the end!!! And in 2016, he loves the Sword of Damocles!!! He loves the riffs and runs that Staz Nair adds so much!!! Eddie really loves that rock n roll, and that's what drives his decisions in a big way!!!

Eddie's least favorites: First, in 1973, Eddie found himself MASSIVELY irritated by Dammit Janet. It very much gave him a "Well! Aren't you two just perfect!" reaction! In 1974, he started to really hate Toucha Toucha too once they cut the Hot Patootie bit at the end because he realized that he found Janet's character to be really irritating (and he's very wrong for that, but still!) Once he's no longer singing Eddie's Teddy in the movie? Omg he fucking hates it! He only enjoys the nunber if he feels like he's exposing himself on his own terms!!! And when he or the same actor that plays him sings it, he feels awesome! When there's a second Doctor Scott, he does not! So that also takes the win for 2016! For 2015, he listened to the ending verse in Superheroes for the first time, since it was sung.... and he has no fucking clue what it means and that just makes him confused and want to turn away! He's wrong of course, but it's a classic Eddie move!!!

Doctor Scott: Going in the completely opposite direction of Eddie's favorites, Doctor Scott loves the (generally speaking) wholesome numbers!!! In the 1973 version, he loves Science Fiction Double Feature!!! He thinks that its so sweet and he loves to see people dream and be passionate like the Usherette is!!! In 1974, he really loved Dammit Janet!! That song is a MASSIVE love of his in every version!!! He adores those kids and seeing them love each other so much just warms his heart!!! In the movie, he found that he could truly appreciate his own number for the first time! Eddie's Teddy had always been one that he needed to tune out his ears because of the rock n roll flare! But this time he thinks its such a fun dance number!!! In the live show, he loves Superheroes! He finds it to be such a beautiful piece and it makes him feel for those kiddos so much!!! In 2016, he really loved Over at the Frankenstein Place for the same reason!!! He loves that number in every version, though!

Doctor Scott's least favorites: Oh God he cannot STAND Hot Patootie! If it just wasn't his style of music, that'd be fine, but he has heard that music NONSTOP since Eddie was able to make coherent sound and it's driving him up the wall! In 1973 and 1974 he also couldn't stand Eddie's Teddy for the way that it was sung by a rockstar!!! He liked the other versions afterwards though! Even though Richard Meek also played Eddie, he knew how to turn it down and Doctor Scott really appreciated that. Once it came to the movie and Doctor Scott could see what was happening, Toucha Toucha also became a complete and total nightmare! That's Janet! She's a little girl to him! This does not feel right!!! In 2015, he felt a massive sense of rivalry when Sweet Transvestite came on, and in 2016 Don't Dream it Be It stressed him out a lot for some reason!!! He likes the numbers that are, generally speaking, G rated and he loves when things are wholesome!!!

The Criminologist: Well we can't deny that it's true, the Criminologist LOVES the Time Warp!!! He's loved it from the moment that he first heard it!!!! He also loves all the songs on the 1973 version that add a bit of his narration to the album that didn't make the cut in the other versions!!! He also always loves Superheroes because he's SO PROUD of that monologue (as he should be!) It is his proudest moment and he LOVES it!!! In 1974, he adored Planet Schmanet because it was new and that was some lore about the universe that he had NOT YET BEEN GIVEN and he was THRILLED! There's a planet called Schmanet? It's probably either torturous or boring? FUCK YES! He knows that now and he is overjoyed!!! In the movie, he loves Sweet Transvestite because he's all "oh my God! It's Frankenfurter! He's a celebrity to me!" And he's SO right!!! In the 2015 show, he loves Over at the Frankenstein place because he finds that it gives him so much anticipation and adrenaline! Not to mention, he also full on swoons when Riff comes into the picture!!! And in 2016 he loves Eddie's Teddy for some reason! He's not sure why, but he really does love it! It carries the same "formal but fun" flare that he wants to have, and he loves it so much!!!

The Criminologist's least favorites: The Criminologist likes to see things happen!!! He wants this pace to MOVE! Because of that, since 1973 he's been a bit irritated at Once in a While, in 1973 and 1974 that one made him the most upset! He'd chronically say "I know that it develops his character but do we really need that?" And, yes we do need it Criminologist, but thank you for your opinion! In the movie, he realized that he couldn't skip Science Fiction Double Feature and was like CHOP CHOP! CAN WE GET TO THINGS HAPPENING PLEASE? He knew realistically that the show needed an opening number, but so slow!!! In 2015, he felt that I'm Going Home was unnecessary and he wanted to see the action happen, and in 2016 that all pretty much held up! He likes numbers where important things are happening and he's bubbling with excitement and anticipation! He'll try to hide it, but he really does love it so much!!!

#TYSM FOR THE REQUEST!!!!#everyone please send more!!!#rocky horror #rocky horror picture show #rocky horror show #richard o'brien #riff raff #frank n furter #brad majors #janet weiss #magenta rocky horror #columbia rocky horror #rocky rocky horror #eddie rocky horror #doctor scott #the criminologist rocky horror #rhps

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usafphantom2 · 9 months ago

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SR-71 pilot recalls when his RSO Flipped Off a French Air Force Mirage III Pilot (Then They lit their Blackbird’s Afterburners and Outran him)

The SR-71 Blackbird

The SR-71 reconnaissance aircraft was the world’s fastest jet-propelled aircraft and the most advanced member of the Blackbird family developed by Lockheed Aircraft Corporation’s clandestine “Skunk Works” division.

The Blackbird was in a different category from anything that had come before. “Everything had to be invented. Everything,” Skunk Works legendary aircraft designer Kelly Johnson recalled in an interesting article appeared on Lockheed Martin website.

The speed of the SR-71 exceeded 2,000 mph. Other planes of the era could, in theory, approximate that speed but only in short, after-burner-driven bursts. The Blackbird maintained a record-setting speed for hours at a time.

Cool Video Explains how SR-71 Blackbird’s J58 Turbo-Ramjet Engine Works

This print is available in multiple sizes from AircraftProfilePrints.com – CLICK HERE TO GET YOURS. SR-71A Blackbird 61-7972 “Skunkworks”

One of the most entertaining stories about flying the Blackbird comes from Lt. Colonel William Burk Jr., who shares about a particular mission he flew [according to SR-71 pilot Stormy Boudreaux, Tom Henichek was Burk’s RSO for that mission] over Lebanon back in 1982 in the book Skunk Works by Ben Rich.

Blackbird over Lebanon

‘In the fall of ’82, I flew from Mildenhall on a mission over Lebanon in response to the Marine barracks bombing. President Reagan ordered photo coverage of all the terrorist basis in the region. The French refused to allow us overfly, so our mission profile was to refuel off the south coast of England, a Mach 3 cruise leg down the coast of Portugal and Spain, left turn through the Straits of Gibraltar, refuel in the Western Mediterranean, right turn into Lebanon and fly right down main street Beirut, exit along the southern Mediterranean with another refueling over Malta, supersonic back out the straits, and return to England.

‘Because Syria had a Soviet SA-5 missile system just west of Damascus that we would be penetrating (we were unsure of Syria’s intentions in this conflict), we programmed to fly above 80,000 feet and at Mach 3 plus to be on the safe side, knowing that this advanced missile had the range and speed to nail us.

SR-71 pilot recalls when his RSO Flipped Off a French Air Force Mirage III Pilot (Then They lit their Blackbird’s Afterburners and Outran him)

‘As we entered Lebanon’s airspace my Recon Systems Officer in the rear cockpit informed me that our defensive systems display showed we were being tracked by that SA-5. About 15 seconds later we got a warning of active guidance signals from the SA-5 site. We couldn’t tell whether there was an actual launch or the missile was still on the rails, but they were actively tracking us. We didn’t waste any time wondering, but climbed and pushed that throttle, and said a couple of “Hail Kellys.”

SR-71 crew flipping off a French Air Force Mirage III Pilot

‘We completed our pass over Beirut and turned toward Malta, when I got a warning low-oil-pressure light on my right engine. Even though the engine was running fine I slowed down and lowered our altitude and made a direct line for England. We decided to cross France without clearance instead of going the roundabout way.

‘We made it almost across, when I looked out the left window and saw a French Mirage III sitting ten feet off my left wing. He came up on our frequency and asked us for our Diplomatic Clearance Number. I had no idea what he was talking about, so I told him to stand by. I ask my backseater, who said, “Don’t worry about it. I just gave it to him.” What he had given him was “the bird” with his middle finger: I lit the afterburners and left that Mirage standing still. Two minutes later, we were crossing the Channel.’

Be sure to check out Linda Sheffield Miller (Col Richard (Butch) Sheffield’s daughter, Col. Sheffield was an SR-71 Reconnaissance Systems Officer) Twitter X Page Habubrats SR-71, Instagram Page SR71Habubrats and Facebook Page Born into the Wilde Blue Yonder Habubrats for awesome Blackbird’s photos and stories.

@Habubrats71 via X

#sr 71 blackbird #aircraft #usaf #aviation #mach3 #spy plane

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lunarsilkscreen · 2 months ago

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Time for a series of depressing thing

Cuz I'm in a depression type mood and the only thing that keeps repeating in my mind is: "I don't care if I'm squandering my potential. I'll waste it as long as you think I would be better off doing some job for you instead." Which may take on a *lot* of interpretations depending on the current situation [reality] but doesn't mean any of them, in my mind at least.

Any; Ob1-Kenobi died a *long* time ago...

There's a long history on the debate of the name OB1. It's a fairly unique name as far as the series goes despite its iconic presence.

To which a very specific eader would say "wan. Obi-Wan" like the dog[inu] *wan wan*

<aside>I suddenly understand the joke about VTUbers asking for [Wan] dressed up as a dog.</aside>

I don't think there's actually a lot of real lore on the subject tho; I think that most of the creative teams thought it would be better as something left to interpretation maybe.

There's a theory in the dark webs... How Qui-Gon, despite looking like a falsified record, actually did set-up the cloning program which prefaced the ensuing wars themselves.

What this would show, from another perspective; that we don't get to see from our protagonists perspective: is the Jedi Council actually setting up military forces for the specific reason of going to war with the Republic in the first place.

<aside>careful how you interpret [with] here. It could be in the same side as the Republic before it became the empire; you dun know.</aside>

And [OB1]s genetic lineage would be the only evidence of the truth behind the clone factory.

And here's the twist; What happened in the volcano?

Anakin is wracked with guilt and angst and confusion at how his previous mentors despite their messages of hope, peace, and love, would cause such trauma for the both of them.

"I have the High-Ground Anakin"

"You don't know what my intentions here are Obi."

The scene that we see at the end isn't OB1 pulling himself to safety or anything else.

It was a Kamikaze attack on OBi. Anakin couldn't live without the one person that he had a two-way emotional connection, AND being responsible for the deaths of so many when he shouldn't have had to.

Obi didn't make it out of the Volcano either.

"Darth Vader Killed... Your... father." [Me]

We see supporting evidence all over [a new hope]; Old Ben doesn't touch anything, he doesn't interact with anything, he doesn't do *anything* without first influencing *his* Padawan. Which sometimes can be Han Solo, Chewbacca, Droids, and even Leia.

But something about seeing Ben as a Force Ghost [The entire time] changes how you interpret Luke's and Kenobi's relationship.

This might be why R2 got the [bleep] treatment. So he wasn't dropping spoilers everywhere.

"R2, it's me, Ben; voice recognized; physical presence not recorded."

"God dammit R2; still don't... Oh thanks Luke; take a look at the thing R2 won't shut up about.

Pada-wan. Hmmm.

The way Like Treats his mentor for the whole first movie, like an unruly teenager; covers up the fact that Luke cannot perceive Obi-wan clearly.

The bar patrons cannot perceive Obi-wan clearly. I think it's possible that's what started the brawl. It's not like Luke hadn't been there before.

And even then Han Solo; doesn't trust Luke at all. The entire time he is *negotiating* a spaceship ride it's through Luke, despite Obi-wan holding the quest marker.

"hey Vader,

"Ben.

"if you strike me down now I'll become more powerful than you could ever know.

*this mother fucker [already] ghosted me‽ What a fucking magnificent Dick leaving me with this mess.*

What did Vader See where Obi Wan was standing? Even through his armor you can tell he was phased as if he was literally looking, and fighting, a ghost.

"But how did Obi touch things when he *did*?"

With the force and through force projection.

He can pull all sorts of levers with the force, though I confess that I know not why he had to splinter-cell his way to the core.

And Vader is poking at a bunch of lifeless robes with a stick; you can tell as our protagonists leave; they have no idea why they're in this conflict, they have no idea how they're going to fight this mess or even if they are; and as they fly away after they destroy the first Death Star. [Except Vader who was definitely working with Obi despite the animosity]

Our protagonists have all but forgotten the old wizrobe. Who only ever appears subsequently to Luke when he is in deep need; or Obi-wan needs some favor done.

My depressed mood comes from an air of claustrophobia around me. As far as I know, before I was cut off from society; it appeared as if everyone I know and or cared about was taken from me. Or left. Or blocked or blacklisted me. Or just straight up started ignoring me more than they usually do.

As if a million voices were all silenced in the same instance. But only from my side. And probably not obliteration... Probably.

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sehtoast · 1 year ago

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Pocket Pal (tiny!Homelander x OC)

18+ | 2k | tiny!Homelander, micro/macro, oral sex, he gets wild with it | Fic Directory

These stupid fucking super villains and their stupid fucking gimmicks!

Homelander is the strongest man in the world, and now? Now he’s lost inside of his own suit, tangled up somewhere between padding and fabric that won’t let even a smidge of light filter through.

It’s the sound of squeaky complaints that helps Ben figure out which sleeve he’s caught in.

The web-head arrived just as it happened. Some new villain running around calling herself Minimizer managed to pull a fast one on Homelander, completely shrinking his body.

“I’m going to ram through her fucking skull!” He shrieks, standing stark naked in Ben’s palm. His eyes burn with rage, and his fury increases tenfold when Benjamin giggles.

“Oh man,” the bug chuckles. He marvels at Homelander’s size. He runs roughly the length from the heel of Ben’s hand to the tip of his middle finger– maybe just a bit more. “You’re so tiny…”

“Shut the fuck up!” Homelander bellows, though his voice rings higher to the larger world. “It’s not fucking funny!”

Ben shakes his head, biting back a smile.

“Benjamin, I swear to fucking Christ!”

This was horrible. There was a crowd forming, and he’d fear for his real body being on every screen in the world if not for the way Ben shielded him with cupped hands. Everyone’s getting pictures and videos of his suit piled in the street, of Spidey crouched down, speaking to something in his hands. Any fucking idiot could put two and two together, and now the world will know he’s weak.

Homelander’s fury quells the slightest bit when Benjamin ruffles his hair with his thumb.

“Alright, alright,” Ben relents. He brings his hands to the neckline of his suit, allowing Homelander to crawl inside for the ride. “Look, we’ll get back home and see what the verdict on this is, yeah?”

He grumbles, but agrees. Minimizer had run off anyway, and this was only drawing out the public spectacle. Homelander watches Ben gather his suit and boots, and they take off together.

Dr. Edi, head of the medical ward, checks him over. She finds no humor in his condition, but reassures the both of them that Vought’s records indicate Minimizer’s powers are a temporary effect. Most of her victims are back to normal within five or so days, and all they had to do was wait it out.

There are no reasonable clothes that fit his tiny form, and his eyes burn a fierce red when Ben mentions those Barbie Ken dolls having stuff that might work. In the end, they both realize it’s easier if he just runs around naked.

Homelander’s entire schedule is cleared for his ‘recovery.’ Ben’s as well, especially once Homelander threatened to crawl inside Ashley’s head and piss on her brain if she didn’t free the web-head’s time.

For the duration of his recovery, Homelander rides around on either Ben’s head or shoulder wherever they go. And sure, he can fly, but he finds this much more enjoyable. It’s kind of fun seeing the world from Ben’s point of view, and he likes that he can throw himself entirely on top of his little spider and be held from head to toe. Ben has always doted on him, but he does so especially now that he’s tiny.

Homelander hangs on to Ben’s hair as the web-head makes them dinner. It’s the first time in his life he’s given a shit about cooking, and it’s almost hypnotizing to watch Ben throw everything together and make something out of nothing.

Benjamin makes him a special dish. All of his food is sliced and diced just enough to be workable for his little mouth. Sure, he doesn’t have to eat, but Ben always insists he does anyway. Now was no different, and it stirred something warm in Homelander’s angry little heart to know Ben cared enough to adapt everything for him.

They eat and conversate as if nothing is different. At the end, Homelander floats up to take his spot on Ben’s shoulder, leaning and nuzzling against the side of his neck. Ben thumbs at his tiny shoulder before seeing to the clean up.

The pair had to find a method for Homelander to take showers. Sure, he was tiny, but that didn’t mean he was going to shirk his strict hygiene routines. Flying under the stream of pelting water took more effort than it was worth, and it was far easier to let Ben hold him throughout the process. Scented products became a hell far worse than ever before, and Ben had to use only the special unscented soaps Homelander typically used on himself.

It took a whole debacle to realize Homelander was better off scooping shower product out of Ben’s palm instead of attempting a pea sized squeeze of product.

“Well, you’re definitely clean,” Ben had told him the first time they tried to pour soap into his little hands. Homelander had to be rinsed under the water after the body wash flowed too fast and drenched him. He griped about how humiliating the ordeal was for the rest of the night. If nothing else, at least Ben giving him a fully body massage as he lathered him with his thumbs was near fucking orgasmic.

Ben found that the best solution for drying Homelander after showers was to simply use a blow dryer. Initially, the two tried to just use a washcloth, but it was like attempting to dry off with a king sized blanket. Plus, the sight of Homelander pretending he wasn’t shivering from the cold was pitiful, so Ben picked the next best thing.

He liked it, too. Sitting under the current of warm air, not even caring how messed up his hair got. It felt so fucking nice to just lay back in Ben’s palm and let himself be spoiled endlessly. Lifting his legs so that the air could hit every little crevice on his body, chuckling at Ben’s own laughter at the act.

“I’m starting to think you like being small,” Ben teases as he fans the dryer back and forth.

“Maybe I just like when you spoil me.” Homelander shouts over the whir of the dryer. “Should do it more often. Like, way more often.”

He finds he enjoys sleeping curled up in Ben’s palm at night. It’s warm, and he can hug a finger or two if he’s feeling inclined. Of course, this opens the door for mischief.

It wasn’t a surprise for Ben when he woke to find Homelander humping against his middle finger. In fact, this was exactly what he expected. Wasn’t often Homelander could go a night without sex, and Ben imagined it would be no different now.

Homelander’s little groans were the cutest. They still carried that faint squeakiness that his tiny voice had, and he was certainly unashamed to let them ring free.

“Havin’ fun?” Ben asks with a sleepy smirk. “Can’t believe you got a new boyfriend already.”

“Veeery funny. Homelander leans his head back to stare at his little spider. “I dunno if he’s a keeper, though. Not a single hole on this guy to fuck.”

That earns him a sweet giggle from Ben.

“Lay back, then.” Ben instructs. He watches Homelander position himself just right, then juts out the tip of his tongue to ghost it from sack to tip. He hears Homelander hiss. “Too much?”

Homelander shakes his head and shivers. “More…”

Ben swipes his tongue a second time, laving over him with more pressure. He licks back and forth, feeling Homelander writhe beneath his tongue. It’s messy, and probably looks absolutely ridiculous, but John sings his pleasure louder than in any blowjob in the past.

“O-Oh, fuck!” He gasps, little hips thrusting up against the wet heat. “Mmph, god, so good! D-Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t–” He cries out harshly as he spills, body locking tight and hot as each pulse of pleasure ripples through him. “Don’t s-stop!” He babbles over and over again, thrusting as little spurts of come coat his lower body and Ben’s tongue until he simply lays there limp.

After that night, Ben’s tongue became his favorite thing in the world. Whether that meant his little spider would curl it up into a hole for him to fuck or just simply let him straddle and grind on it, he fucking loved it. It wasn’t uncommon for him to float up and wedge between Ben’s lips, lower body trapped inside paradise itself as he was licked to completion over and over again until Ben’s jaw would hurt.

Even better than that was the time he discovered he could return the favor. It wasn’t hard to slink down Ben’s sleeping body and find just what he was looking for. He embraced Ben’s clit, licking the head of it on one side while rubbing his palm over the other. He felt every throb, heard every little clench around his love’s gathering arousal as he worked. Once that nub was finally nice and hard, he made his way inside Benjamin’s cunt.

What a gift it was to be able to writhe around in his slick, touching his walls, licking them, grinding against them. He was snug inside and used his flight powers to fuck his body in and out of the warm canal. Each time, he rubbed his palms flat against Ben’s sweet spot.

He could hear Ben groaning and could tell he was beginning to squirm in his sleep. He planned to finish the job before the sunlight could wake Ben first. Homelander increased his pace, fucking back and forth, body utterly drenched in arousal. The glide of his body against Ben’s walls stimulated him, and he found himself coming hard when Benjamin’s cunt finally pulsed around him, squeezing him so deliciously.

A hand was there to greet him when he slipped free, lifting him like a naughty kitten to be scolded for such mischief.

Though he actually received praise instead, much to his satisfaction.

By the end of the fifth day, he was back to being upset about his stature. It must have been at least every hour that he–

“It should have fucking worn off by now!” He says with wide eyes. “What if I’m stuck like this? Jesus Christ, what if I’m like this for the rest of my life!?”

Ben shushes him, thumbing softly at the top of his head. “Worrying is just going to make it worse, Johnny.” He coos sweetly. “I’m sure things like this are gonna be case by case, y’know?”

“Bring me back to the med wing,” he orders. “She has to fix this or–”

“She can’t, babe. Remember?” Ben settles his open hand behind where Homelander sits on his chest, wordlessly offering for him to lean back. “It’s gonna have to happen naturally, okay? She said it’s always been temporary.”

“D’you have any idea how fucking humiliating this is?” He seethes.

“I mean…” Ben arches a brow. “Kinda? I guess?”

“No,” he points accusingly, “you don’t. So stop acting like this is nothing to worry about!”

Ben merely lets him continue on his tirade as they lay on the couch together. Sometimes Homelander just needs to have a tantrum, and this is no different. The TV fills the spaces between his rants until he simmers down and sits grumpily with his arms crossed.

He grumbles, but eventually drags Ben’s hand to lay overtop of him for warmth.

They end up sleeping there for the night, and it’s peaceful until, out of nowhere, Benjamin is roused from his rest by a sudden pressure on his body. His eyes open in shock, ready to deal with an attack, only to be met with relief.

There, sleeping peacefully, is John, full sized and back to normal. He seems to have not even noticed the shift in his sleep, but is certainly elated when Ben wakes him.

“Finally!” Homelander grins, still stark naked and proud as a peacock. “Now,” he says, grasping Ben’s hand, leading him toward the bedroom. “We got some lost time to make up for, and you deserve a little something for helping me out.”

Much as he was thrilled to see John back in good spirits, Ben admittedly was going to miss his pocket pal.

Ah, well. Minimizer’s still out there, right?

Who’s to say there’s never gonna be a next time?

#homelander #homelander x oc #homelander smut #homelander fanfiction #cozy corner kinktober #antony starr #the boys #the benlander agenda

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onlymurdersintheafterparty · 8 months ago

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OMITB S4:E1 "Once Upon a Time in the West" Recap

The show is finally back! We no longer have to deal with Tobin, Loretta is back, and we've got a star studded cast of guest stars. I can't wait to see what's in store for this season. I'm bummed we only get one episode to kick off the season instead of two but I'm hopeful that means there's going to be a lot of twists, drama, and etc to get through in due time. Time to dive into the first episode.

SPOILERS AHEAD

Our favorite trio is recording their final episode of their newest season on Ben Glenroy when the power briefly goes out. To celebrate the end of yet another season they decide to go to Charles' place for a nightcap and Charles remembers Sazz never came back. On the way to the apartment Oliver mentions a cold case and I can't help but wonder if this is foreshadowing for next season 👀 Anyways they go into Charles' apartment and find the wine but there's no body!

Mabel being the clever woman she is spots blood spatter on the stove but I don't think she realizes yet what it is. Or does she and assumes it was a cooking accident? As the camera zooms out we realize that the trio has yet to notice the gunshot hole in the kitchen window. The fact that the body is missing is such an interesting concept because how do you solve a murder with no body or proof just the window and the stove if that?

And they don't even know it's a murder because whoever killed Sazz and haphazardly cleaned up the scene texted Charles the next day impersonating her and stating that she had to go be a double for Bakula in LA. So I think it's safe to assume the killer is one of the new characters in LA. Speaking of LA, a mysterious Bev Melon who has kept contacting the trio has invited them to come visit because Paramount wants to make a movie based off of their podcast. How convenient that "Sazz" is in LA and now the trio is as well. I'll be confused though if that whistling keeps happening to Charles even across the country.

When they get to LA and meet Bev, she's disrespectful as hell when describing their personalities. Oliver is the one she wants to strangle or hug, Charles is the un-fun uncle with a turtle face, and Mabel is a millennial with no job, no house, and basically a failure. Charles leaning across the table to give his folded note was hilarious, especially when Oliver tried to help him up only for the number to say 4 🤣 While it rolls off Charles and Oliver's backs, Mabel is offended and rightfully so. It's only one episode so far but Selena is doing a great job at showing this side of Mabel. You can really see her shrink into herself and that she's less confident than she was in the previous seasons.

Because Mabel doesn't yet want to sign away her life rights, there's a party that evening which will give her a chance to reconsider. But before then, you know the cast has to explore LA. Driven by Charles' old chauffeur in his limo, we see the trio standing in the sunroof while driving down a street lined with palm trees, In-N-Out Burger food and drinks in hand. Side note: I miss In In-N-Out Burger so bad. Their animal style fries are my favorite! But I digress.

Charles mentions that Sazz's apartment is located in one of the places on the tour so they make a detour to see if she's home. There is a stack of unopened mail and packages outside her door which is odd considering the text message said that she was in LA. How can she be in the city but her house deserted? Thankfully Charles picks up on this but tries his best not to worry and be fun to prove he's not the unfunny uncle.

The party is as awkward as you'd expect but with some fun moments. Loretta shows up and she and Oliver talk about their future and if Oliver will move to LA to be with her. It's a complex decision that I don't expect to be answered anytime soon. Charles is still worried about Sazz and Mabel just looks like she doesn't even want to be there.

We discover the actors playing the trio are Eugene Levy, Eva Longoria, and Zach Galifianakis. None of the trio vibe with their counterparts. Eva tries too hard to be young and hip with Mabel, Zach is rude and dismissive to Oliver, and Eugene bores Charles with his impressions. Plus again, the Sazz disappearance is concerning. Seeing someone in a hat and trench coat, Charles follows them and the person is revealed to be Bakula. When asked about the body double work, Bakula reveals that Sazz never showed. Now the warning signs are fully going off in Charles' head. But wait! Things get even more weird because Charles gets a call from Lester that they couldn't get the window changed out that day. The same window that no one has noticed has a whole bullet hole through it. So that's where the whistling came from.

Howard got a new dog named Gravy because he can no longer adopt cats from the shelter and this is an interesting development because Gravy used to be a working dog. We don't know what job but I assume some sort of police work because when Gravy entered the middle of the kitchen where Sazz's body was she would not stop howling. So either a cadaver dog or maybe one used to sniff out certain substances? The killer could have messed with something in Charles' apartment that is causing that ringing that he's experiencing. We'll find out soon enough by episode 9 or 10. Ok it turns out that we won't have to wait because it's not Gravy it's Gravey because she is in fact a cadaver dog! I was right!

When the trio returns to New York, Howard brings over Gravey who searches the apartment and follows the trail up to the incinerator that was labeled out of order. When they go into the incinerator room and check what was recently incinerated all they find in the ashes is the replacement joints that Sazz received in Bulgaria. And the fake Sazz finally drops the act and texts back "Not your fucking friend" meaning we're dealing with a cold killer and one with a grudge against Charles for whatever reason.

I think this is honestly the saddest death in the series because this is someone that they all knew and was a good friend to Charles. He knew something was wrong just not what, and now his fears have been confirmed in the worst way. Not only did they kill her but they incinerated her too which is just so cruel to me that they'd dispose of her like that. It also makes me wonder what she had on her body that they didn't want to be discovered because a note can be thrown away but another thing such as a birthmark or tattoo can not. All I can say is that Charles is a very good friend for not only worrying about Sazz but going out of his way to find out where she went and I'm sorry for his loss. He'll be devastated when he realizes he was the target.

They really came out swinging with this first episode and I really hope they keep the momentum going because if so, it's shaping up to be the best season yet.

#only murders in the building #only murders hulu #omitb #omitb s4 #omitb spoilers

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ladamedusoif · 2 years ago

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Visiting - Chapter Two: Bright in the Sea

(moodboard by the wonderful @cutesyscreenname)

Pairing: Professor!Ben (College AU) x OFC Lydia/fem!Reader (reader POV/2nd POV)

Summary: Seeking a change of scenery after her life falls apart, Lydia crosses the Atlantic and arrives in a small New England town, to spend a year expanding her intellectual horizons as a visiting professor of art history at a small liberal arts college. Her growing friendship with Ben Morales, professor of Hispanic literature, forces Lydia to confront the fallout from her past - and raises unexpected questions about the future.

Chapter Summary: Lydia continues to settle in at Barrow College, developing a closer friendship with Ben as well as other colleagues. Not everything is smooth sailing, however, and things come to a head at a staff team-building away day at a New England beach.

Word Count: 6.5k (??)

Rating: Mature; will become Explicit in later chapters.

Content (chapter specific): Professor Ben College AU; smaller-than-usual-for-this-fandom age gap (she is 41 and Ben 47 when the story begins); canon is not a thing here; slow burn; strong language; thinly-veiled racism and discrimination; accent discrimination; "anti-woke" culture war nonsense from academics; not all historians, etc; alcohol consumption; discussion of anxiety and panic disorders as well as coping methods.

A/N: This chapter is part world-building, part "dealing with academic assholes", part meet more characters - all woven through the growing friendship between Lydia and Ben. I guess this is mostly fluff but kinda angsty at times? I did warn you it was a slow burn...

Much of this chapter is set around academic administrative and 'team-building' activities. Trust me when I say that these are the norm if you work in a contemporary university or college (and that I'm jealous of the Barrow people having a cute beach house for these events).

Also trust me when I say that the views and attitudes of K. Wright Lacroix are scarily common in academia on both sides of the Atlantic, and kicking against this is vital.

The title of this chapter is taken from the lyrics to Laura Veirs' song 'Cast a Hook in Me'.

I also listened to Lisa Hannigan's Sea Sew album while writing the last scene, and 'Sea Song' from that record feels very fitting for these two.

See the Series Masterlist for an outline of Lydia's story and background.

Further, short A/N right at the end to avoid any spoilers.

Taglist: @cutesyscreenname; @lunapascal; @fuckyeahdindjarin; @julesonrecord; @tieronecrush; @perennialdoll247; @vermillionwinter ; @iamskyereads ; @love-the-abyss; @tessa-quayle; @javierisms; @imaswellkid

The universal language of twenty-first century academia is, it seems, all-faculty meetings in airless lecture theatres, fuelled by terrible coffee and slightly stale cookies.

For you, though, attending your first proper meeting of the year at Barrow was a novelty, and the mid-September residual sunshine and warm temperatures (by your standards) meant that your new colleagues were in an upbeat mood.

Well, more or less.

“Are you ready for your first mandatory death by a thousand statistics? Fuuuuuck me, I hate this shit.”

Ani Sen stands at your office door, hip cocked, dark curls piled on top of their head to show off their freshly trimmed, back to school undercut, and impossibly funky, bright green glasses dangling from one hand.

“It can’t be as bad as an all-staff briefing I once had,” you suggest, scooping up your notebook, pen, and iPad and popping them into a tote bag. “Twenty minutes with the head of department and every slide had an animated graph, pie chart, or word art on it. I felt nauseous.”

Ani grimaces. “Okay, that does sound fucking awful. But where we lack in pointless animations, we make up for in tedium. And dick-swinging.”

The first time you met Ani, a fellow art historian and specialist in contemporary art, you’d been in awe of how cool they were. Mid-40s, smart, stylish, and highly accomplished, Ani’s coolness was positively glacial. They were also sweet, kind, and incredibly funny, their brand of sardonic (and sweary) humour chiming perfectly with your own.

Ani’s best friend in the faculty was Evan Rhys, a colleague of Ben’s in the literature department. Where Ani was dry and sardonic, Evan was bright and effervescent. He was about 40, tall and rangy, piercings dangling from one ear, and a perpetual spark of colour in the faculty corridors. When you first met him, Evan was sporting a shock of bright orange hair and a lurid green slash-necked jersey shirt, paired with white jeans and a pair of Converse exactly the same colour as his hair.

He was, perhaps unsurprisingly, a huge student favourite. Rather more surprisingly, for a college professor entering middle age, he also had an Instagram following in the tens of thousands. (Ani was completely at a loss as to why he was so popular. “It’s just photos of him in those fucking outfits!”, they whined. “Maybe it’s because he matches them to his hair.”)

Between them, Ani and Evan had wasted no time in ensuring that you were invited for lunches, coffees, and introductions to the colleagues they thought you’d like to meet. Or, as Ani put it, “I’m gonna make sure you meet the non-fuckwits first.”

There was no shortage of fuckwits, apparently. Ani had drawn up a masterlist - “in case I’ve forgotten someone is, or has been known to be, a dick.” You had scanned it casually, feeling an unexpected surge of relief when you note that Ben Morales’ name is absent.

You knew deep down that he wasn’t a fuckwit, though lord knows what he thought of you. But you had had one day to get the measure of the man - Ani had been working here, alongside him, for several years.

“I met Ben Morales on my first day,” you mentioned, trying to sound casual. “He was tasked with doing the welcome for me. Seemed really nice, actually.”

Ani closed their eyes and makes a sort of “awwwwwh!” noise, as if they’d just seen a red panda or a sea otter or some other furry creature of equivalent cuteness.

“Oh, definitely not a fuckwit. Me and Evan have coffee with him or sometimes go out with a bigger group to Murphy’s - that’s the one bar that even students usually steer clear of. Ben’s the anti-fuckwit, actually, in every sense. Just an all-round good guy.” They raised an eyebrow. “Total fucking dork, though.”

Total dork or not, Ben had continued to take his welcome duties seriously. A couple of days after your welcome meeting, he’d met you in the staff lounge yawning at the filter coffee machine while it brewed up a fresh pot.

“Are we running you ragged already?”

You turned, smiling when you realised who it was. “I swear to god, I get the worst slumps around 4pm. Trying to get ahead of this one.”

He nodded sympathetically and brandished his blue mug. “Why do you think I’m here?”

The next day, around the same time, you were about to get up from your desk in search of coffee when you noticed a familiar silhouette in the glass panel of your office door: Ben, bearing two cups of coffee (one black, one with creamer).

“I hope you don’t mind? I was getting some for myself and remembered what you said about your 4pm slump, so…”

You beckoned him into the office and to a spare seat, gladly accepting the cup and placing it on your desk. “I’m so grateful. Coffee to your door? Come on, that’s the dream.” You rummaged in your tote bag, producing a small box of cookies and shaking them in his direction. “Unfortunately these are all I can offer by way of a thank you.”

It had only been a couple of weeks since you started at Barrow, but in that time the coffee call had developed into a bit of a habit on days where you were both around in the afternoons. He’d claimed that the companionable chatting that accompanied the coffee was just to see how you were getting on and make sure you had everything you needed, but you suspected that he really just liked having someone to talk about books or movies and swap silly stories with.

And you like it, too, especially when you manage to make him laugh so hard he has to take his glasses off to wipe his eyes. You’d bonded with some of your closest work friends (of all genders) at home in a similar way. It felt easy and natural with Ben from the start, and - with Ani and Evan - you were glad to have found such welcoming people so soon.

There was no sign of him at the all-staff event, though. You slip into a row of fold-down seats alongside Ani and Evan, who’s nursing the biggest iced coffee you’ve ever seen.

“Have you prepared her?” he asks Ani, who’s retrieving a pen and notebook from their bag.

“I have. From what she’s said, this is a universal experience. She’ll be fine. Right Lydia?”

He swigs some coffee, ice cubes clattering inside the enormous plastic goblet. “Not every college has a Professor Lacroix, though”, he muses, ominously.

You are about to ask who Professor Lacroix is when you feel a brush of fabric on your right arm and detect a familiar scent: clean soap, paper, bergamot, slightly spicy cologne, and with the addition, now, of coffee.

“Okay if I sit here?” Ben is gesturing to the empty seat beside you, at the end of the row. He’s a little more formally dressed than usual: black jeans, checked shirt, and a dark red tie. Somehow he’s managing to carry a cup of coffee, his glasses, and a folder all at once, and an old conference tote bag is slung over his shoulder.

“Of course!” you nod, moving your things over to clear space. He sits down and puts on his glasses before turning to you with a smile.

“Benjamin,” Evan says, nodding and raising his enormous iced coffee in Ben’s direction. Ben reciprocates the gesture, nodding with exaggerated ceremony. Evan’s gaze shifts to focus on Ben’s tie.

“Um. Benjamin. Are those…giraffes?”

You turn to look a little closer. Sure enough, Ben’s tie features a pattern of tiny giraffes, woven into the silk fabric. He looks down and lifts up the tie.

“My brother’s kids got it for me at the San Diego Zoo,” he explains. “I promised them I’d wear it for the first talk I had to give this year.”

Evan remains sceptical, sipping on his coffee as if the tie has personally offended him. You are about to tell Ben about your eldest niece’s love of giraffes when Professor Jennifer (Jen to most, Jenny to very few) Arden walks up to the end of your row.

Jen is head of the literature department at Barrow and a formidable figure in the world of gender studies, with a publication record as long as her arm. She is petite and fine-boned, her dark bob neatly slicked down, and she always looks perfect: beautifully tailored palazzo pants, gorgeous silk blouses, and a collection of statement necklaces that you covet greatly. She’s incredibly smart, deeply charismatic and very no nonsense, but has been extremely kind and welcoming thus far, embodying the perfect blend of “do no harm, take no shit” that a role like hers requires.

She’s also close to Ben, having joined the department around the same time. One day over lunch, Ani had mentioned to you that there’d even been a student rumour about them being secretly married. “Someone in one of my classes once claimed - no, swore blind - to have met them grocery shopping in town with their kids. Their KIDS!!” Ani laughed so hard the tears ran down their face. “Her wife is a goddamn paediatric surgeon for crying out loud, and a gorgeous one at that! I mean, no offence to Ben but if they saw Rachel they’d realise how wrong they were, because she’s incredible.”

Jen checks in ahead of the staff briefing, making sure you’re okay with being introduced to the entire faculty (do you really have a choice?) and confirming that Ben’s ready for his presentation.

“It’s going to be great, promise. It’s vital work.” She pats Ben’s shoulder in a gesture of reassurance.

Ben looks up at her, his expression uncertain. “And if there’s a backlash…?”

Jen raises an eyebrow. “Then we deal with it. Don’t let the bastards grind us down.”

When she's returned to the central podium you ask Ben about the presentation, wondering why he’s preparing for a negative reaction. This sort of trepidation was normally only seen when someone was about to announce a faculty restructure or cuts.

“It’s the next stage in the diversity and inclusivity initiative we’ve been working on,” he explains, opening his folder to retrieve some of the documents. “It’s a team effort - I’m just the person who reports back on the committee’s plans. Unfortunately, some colleagues aren’t quite so keen and -“

He’s interrupted by the loud voice of Professor Andrew Whitney, faculty dean, calling for attention as the meeting gets under way. “I’ll explain later,” Ben whispers, dark eyes serious behind his glasses, “but…well. You’ll see.”

Professor Whitney introduces you about halfway through the meeting. “…who will be with us for the entire academic year, working in Art History. Lydia?” He scans the lecture theatre. “Perhaps you could introduce yourself more fully, tell us about your expertise and plans for the year?”

Panic rises in your chest. Public speaking is literally part of your job, but something about the rows of expectant faces makes you want to sprint up the steps of the hall and run.

A gentle nudge from your right. “I think that’s your cue. You got this, don’t worry.”

You nod appreciatively at Ben as you get to your feet, introducing yourself and explaining your research interests. “So, uh, yeah. I’m really excited to be here, and thank you all for being so welcoming so far.”

You sit back down as quickly as possible, heat rising in your face. Jen stands up at the podium and leans into the main microphone. “A reminder too that, as is traditional, Lydia has two elective modules open to students on any major/minor combo in the faculty, so please do encourage your students to sign up! Lydia, would you like to tell us what these are?”

You stand up again. “Um, semester one is a course on unpacking the gaze in visual culture, focusing on the female gaze and queering the gaze; semester two is focused on readings in radical theory and applying this to visual culture studies. All welcome! No prior knowledge required!”

Jen grins at you from the podium and lightly applauds. You suddenly become conscious of a theatrically loud tut-tutting coming from the other side of the lecture theatre, where a pale man with sandy-coloured hair and dressed in a navy blazer, chinos, striped shirt and bow tie is staring directly and disapprovingly at you.

Evan leans over. “That’s Professor Lacroix. I think you’re his worst nightmare. Apart from Ani. And me. And probably Ben, after this.” He gestures towards the podium.

Ben is standing at the rostrum, loading up his PowerPoint presentation. He seems a little nervous, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck and occasionally fiddling with his tie.

When he glances around the hall and meets your eye, you can’t help but give him a little thumbs up, mouthing “you got this!” in a reciprocal act of reassurance. He half-smiles, and starts the presentation.

He’s a natural: convincing and engaging, every detail meticulously prepared and evidenced. The project, it transpires, focuses on making Barrow - historically associated with providing a liberal arts education for the “elite” (translation: rich white people) - more inclusive and diverse through a range of admission schemes, scholarships and grants, and ongoing support.

You can see why Ben is the committee’s spokesperson. His passion for the project is plain to see as he outlines the supports being introduced - monitoring progress for students who’ve entered through the new schemes, offering extra, free support services and guidance to help them throughout their degrees, and so on.

“A liberal arts education is for everyone,” he says, “A college like Barrow is for everyone. We’ve started to make this a reality, and this year - with your help - we’ll ensure every student gets the support they need.”

Applause ripples through the theatre - except from the po-faced Professor Lacroix, who exhales, rolls his eyes, and does the most half-hearted attempt at clapping imaginable.

Ani leans in to you as Ben walks back up to his seat. “Lacroix is Fuckwit Numero Uno. King Fuckwit. The Fuckwit Tzar.”

Sure enough, when you look back over in his direction you notice that Lacroix has his hand up. Andrew Whitney calls on him to ask his question, and you swear you can hear everyone around you doing a sharp intake of breath.

“Professor Whitney,” Lacroix drawls in a bizarre mid-Atlantic accent, “I suspect you know what I am about to ask. But I must once again express my concerns about the direction of travel in this faculty.” To your horror, you notice a handful of his colleagues in history nodding appreciatively.

“Fuuuuuuck offffffffff”, Ani mutters under their breath. You steal a glance at Ben, whose usually open and friendly face has fallen into a scowl, jaw ticking as if he’s biting his tongue for fear of what he might say.

Lacroix turns in your direction, and gestures to himself. “We haven’t been introduced. I’m K. Wright Lacroix, Professor of American History.”

“The K stands for Kevin,” Ben whispers in your ear. “Or Kunt”, Evan adds, draining his iced coffee and forcing Ani to suppress a giggle.

Lacroix isn’t that old. Hell, he might be younger than you, but he’s got that countenance of someone who came out of the womb clutching a copy of the National Review. He continues speaking, now addressing the entire hall.

“Over the last couple of years this college has drifted in a dangerous direction,” he pronounces, as if addressing a rally. “We have had the incursion of critical race theory, gender ideology, and now we have our visiting professor offering radical theory to our students. Meanwhile, traditional subjects and approaches - the bedrock of the liberal arts education! - are forgotten.”

You want the ground to open up and swallow you. This isn’t the first time you’ve had this shit thrown at you. It won’t be the last. But the tacit acquiescence to this guy’s bullshit is mortifying.

Ben is clutching a pen in his right hand, long fingers gripping it like he’s afraid to let go.

“And of course, we have just heard the latest from Professor Morales and his comrades - pardon me, committee - in their efforts to kill off the grand Barrow tradition of high standards and academic excellence. And I ask once again - where will it end? Who will we ‘cancel’ this year?”

There’s something about the way he pronounces Ben’s surname - technically correct, if one was speaking Spanish, but with an extremely exaggerated accent intended to reiterate its “foreignness” - that makes you feel sick. Coupled with his use of “comrades”, the implication is clear. You’re appalled and surprised. This sort of thing would result in immediate action if it happened in your institution. Wouldn’t it?

The seats in the lecture theatre are close together, and as a result you can actually feel Ben’s entire body tense up. Ani is throwing their hands up in exasperation.

“Can we move on? This isn’t adding anything to the meeting, for crying out loud!”

Professor Whitney waves his hand in a call for calm. Jen Arden is rolling her eyes and shooting daggers at K. Wright Lacroix.

“Thank you, Professor Lacroix. As ever, your comments will be noted.” Professor Whitney looks at his watch. “I think that’s us done. A reminder: the annual away day is on Saturday, at the Barrow beach house! A wonderful opportunity for some team building and lobster rolls, as always!”

In your experience, an “away day” literally meant going to another room on campus to eat terrible buffet food while doing team exercises and focus groups. There was no “away” involved. It comes as a surprise, then, when the reaction to Professor Whitney’s announcement from the room is decidedly muted.

“Why does no one seem to like a beach away day?” you ask Ani as you pack up your things.

“Because they expect us to attend at weekends, because the actual beach time involves stupid shit like scavenger hunts or building a raft, because Andrew fucking Whitney thinks that’s how you build collegiality and interdisciplinary working,” they hiss. “Plus, it’s cheap - the college owns the property so they don’t have to pay venue hire.”

You turn to ask Ben if it’s really as bad as all that, but he’s already gone.

You swing by the college canteen, in search of some sustenance to bring back to the desk. Evan is still fuming from the briefing.

“Fucking historians I swear to fuck!” he hisses, assessing the selection of sandwiches on offer.

“I mean, they’re not all like that guy,” you offer, trying to defuse the tension. You’re still smarting, too - not so much from the stuff Lacroix had directed at you, as the casual racism and classism in his comments about the diversity initiatives. About Ben.

Evan exhales and reaches for a hummus and roasted vegetable wrap. “I know. Some of my best friends are historians, as they say. It’s just Lacroix. He gives them a bad name. And he’s always had it in for anyone who isn’t a cishet WASPy fucker.”

“Why doesn’t anyone do anything? I mean, he’s clearly guilty of implicit discrimination, at a minimum.”

Evan rolls his eyes. “First, he’s a bit of a nepo baby. Family of academics. Well connected, especially to the head of the college. Well off. So the college leadership doesn't really bother pursuing it when the issues are raised.”

He fills a paper cup of filter coffee for himself. “Secondly, the Barrow way is that colleagues - as in, permanent employees of the college - aren’t allowed to directly confront colleagues unless it’s specific to a class. There’s a process involving filling out forms. Supposed to stop confrontation and tensions, apparently.”

“What the fuck??”

“I know. It’s toxic.”

You fill a coffee cup for yourself, add creamer, then pour another. Black, this time. You pick up two donuts: one glazed, one powdered sugar. You walk with Evan as far as his office and then continue along the corridor.

You can see him through the glass panel in his office door, sitting at his desk. He appears to be reading something on his computer screen while absentmindedly playing with a little bobblehead figurine on his desk, lightly tapping its head so it wobbles back and forth.

You knock gently, holding up the coffee expectantly when Ben looks up. He nods, beckoning you in.

“This is very kind. Thank you.” He looks deflated. He takes off his glasses, pinches the bridge of his nose, and exhales.

“I’ll leave you be. I just thought you might appreciate the coffee -”

Ben shakes his head, gesturing for you to sit down. “No, no. Just a bit of a headache. I probably need caffeine. Stay. Please stay?”

You sit down in the chair facing his desk, opening the bag of donuts. “Glazed or powdered sugar?”

His eyes widen and his mouth forms a little “o” shape. “Ooh. I think I’ll go with powdered sugar.” He smiles as you hand him the donut on a serviette.

Ben’s office is, well, very him, inasmuch as you know what “him” is after a couple of weeks : a substantial desk with an anglepoise lamp stands in front of the tall windows, covered in piles of papers and books; a mid-century armchair sits in one corner with a low table beside it and a floor lamp behind, also stacked with books; and there’s a whole wall of floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, all heaving with texts of various shapes and sizes (and in several languages, you’d noticed). Family photos and framed prints are dotted here and there, and you’ve been meaning to ask him about some of the trinkets that you can see on some of the shelves.

“I was really impressed by what you said today about the diversity and inclusion initiative, you know,” you say, sipping your coffee. “It’s such important work, and the plans are great. Like Jen said, it’s vital.”

He shrugs and chews thoughtfully on his donut, powdered sugar lightly dusting his moustache. “You saw what I meant about some colleagues not being keen.”

You raise an eyebrow. “I know I've only been here a few weeks, and it may not be my place to say it, but… that guy’s just one asshole. One asshole on the wrong side of history, ironically for a historian. And he shouldn’t be allowed to treat colleagues like that. Especially not the way he…well, how he referred to you.”

Ben sighs, resigned. “It’s not the first time, probably won’t be the last. It’s not that simple here, unfortunately. There’s a rule -”

“Evan mentioned it to me. And - again, might be speaking out of turn - in this case it’s fucking stupid. Anyway, more importantly - the scheme sounds fantastic, and I’d be glad to talk over some of the equivalent stuff we do at my place sometime. Maybe share some best practice and swap ideas?”

Ben tilts his head and smiles. “I’d like that.”

You scrunch up the paper bag. “Before I go, I’ve got two questions.”

He raises his eyebrows. “Go on.”

“One. Is the beach away day really that bad, and what’s the dress code? Because I’m not sure I want to do bathing suit chic in front of the entire faculty.”

He huffs a laugh. “It’s not that bad. Just be prepared to help academics who’ve never as much as changed a lightbulb complete a scavenger hunt or assemble a raft from a selection of junk. And shorts are about as far as anyone goes. Thankfully.”

You feign wiping sweat from your brow. “Phew. Okay, question two. Can I see who that bobble head is?”

He turns the figurine around. “It’s our old pal Indy. I know you’ve probably never seen a professor with a bobble head in their office before. Please don’t judge me.”

“Judge you?!” Your grin is wide and genuine. “Just wait until you see my historical figures Playmobil collection. I love this! He’s got a PhD and everything. Didn’t you say he’d given you a misleading expectation of what it would be like to be an academic, though?”

He smiles at the figure, sending Indy’s head bobbing in its Panama hat. “I did. Not so much the fighting Nazis thing. More so that he never had to do any admin. And that he could climb out of his office to escape students.”

“That said… some might argue that you’re fighting oppressive and would-be dictatorial individuals, just at work rather than in the field? Wait - I didn’t say that. You never heard anything.” You mime locking your mouth and throwing away the key.

Ben gasps before collapsing in a fit of laughter. “Holy shit, Lydia, you’re the only one who could get away with that.” He rests his hands on the desk and tries to recover his composure. “Fuck. I really needed a laugh.”

You nod your head as you open the door to leave. “At your service.”

“Has everyone found their teams and their colour-coded sticker?”

Andrew Whitney is trying to corral an entire faculty’s worth of humanities academics into five teams for his grand team-building exercise - as Ani predicted, this year it involves building a raft. To promote interdisciplinary communication (per Professor Whitney’s introductory talk, delivered that morning), the teams are mixed, with people from various departments working together. To your relief, K. Wright Lacroix is on a different team, one primarily made up of other historians. Ben is on a team with Evan, and you and Ani are working together with a mixed group of musicologists and literature colleagues.

Though most of your colleagues remain cynical - Evan, for example, is wearing huge sunglasses, an enormous black hoodie emblazoned with the word NOPE, and a brightly-patterned pair of board shorts - you’re enjoying the relatively warm mid-September weather, stiff ocean breeze notwithstanding, and appreciating the novelty of seeing the New England coastline. Not having banked on a professional visit to the beach so soon, you’ve rustled up your most beach-appropriate and practical attire from your limited wardrobe: a pair of dark green cropped linen culottes and a long-sleeved Breton striped top, with a trusty pair of vintage-style leather sandals.

Ani stamps their Teva-clad feet on the sand and pulls up the hood on their tie-dye oversized sweatshirt, wrapping their arms around themselves to warm up. “You know the drill, right? We just have to make something that’s going to stay afloat for like, a minute.”

You nod. “And we can use the pile of beach trash in the middle as our source for components, and the aim is to work together to decide on a design and execute it. Is there a prize?”

Ani looks at you with a pitying glare. “Two guesses, girl. I’m motivated by spite. I just wanna beat the shit out of fucking Master and Commander over there.” They flick their head towards Lacroix and the historians, who seem to be assessing wind speed and direction by holding up fingers and tossing paper handkerchiefs into the air.

The building process is less an example of teamwork and more a sociological case study in group project dynamics, where one or two people take the lead and do most of the work while the rest kick back. Ani’s desperation to triumph over Kevin Lacroix and his crew has them going hell for leather in designing a simple but lightweight structure, dispatching you to gather plastic bottles and twine for the other team members to bind together.

You wander over to see how Evan and Ben are getting on. Evan is literally motionless, sitting in a lotus position on the sand with his hood up and shades on. Ben, clad in a pair of dark red shorts, a navy zip-up hoodie, and a grey, well-worn Wilco Yankee Hotel Foxtrot T-shirt, is constructing a mast and sail of some sort from a long twig and an empty plastic bag. The ocean breeze has left his hair a tousled mess and he appears to be squinting against the glare despite wearing his sunglasses, but he looks like he’s in his element.

He notices you and waves, and you move a little closer. Your culottes flap against your legs in the wind, and you have to rest a hand on your brow to shield the sun enough to see him properly.

“I think you’re enjoying this, Professor Morales.”

Ben stands up, leaning forward to brush the sand from his knees and thighs. The gesture draws your attention, unconsciously, to the strong, lean muscles of his legs.

Your brain immediately remembers, unbidden, that he cycles to work.

He shrugs but his smile says it all. “Transferable skills!” he admits. “Building Lego taught me everything I know.”

A roar from Ani jolts you. “Lydia get your ass over here we have like ten minutes I swear to fuck!”

“They want to beat Lacroix,” you explain. Ben lowers his sunglasses and looks at you conspiratorially.

“Who doesn’t?”

And then he winks at you.

Ani is a pretty good raft-builder when they’re out for blood. Your team's haphazard construction bobs around in the surf while its captain whoops and cheers it on from the shore. The musicologists have long absconded to the beach house, hoping to steal an early march on the lobster rolls, so it’s just you, Ani, and a couple of the literature people left to witness the triumph of the SS Fork This Shirt.

“I thought you hated this stuff?” you ask Ani while they jump up and down in the sand.

“I love it when I’m winning and Fuckwit Tzar over there is not.” They gesture to where Lacroix is hastily trying to fix the mast on the overly elaborate ship his team had constructed out of an old plastic barrel. “Hey, historians!" Ani roars. "Oceans are battlefieeeeeeelds!”

Lacroix’s raft is the only one not to successfully set sail, which makes Ani even happier. Evan embraces them in a hug as you all stroll up to the beach house for the long-awaited lobster rolls.

The beach house, which was left to the college by a former professor, is an early twentieth-century building with shiplap cladding painted a pale blue with white accents, accessed from the beach via a white wooden staircase. Two white Adirondack chairs sit in a small garden facing the ocean, perfectly placed to admire the view.

You fall into step with Jen Arden and Ben as you join the rest of your colleagues inside. You’re all ready to dive in for a lobster roll when Andrew Whitney puts himself between you and the food. Never a wise move, but this is technically the boss, after all.

“So tell me, Lydia, are you settling in okay? What made you want to come to us for the year?”

You have your responses down pat. Professor Whitney seems impressed enough, moving on to ask about your plans for your elective classes.

You’re in the middle of explaining the concept of “queering the gaze” when a familiar but unwelcome face appears alongside the faculty dean. K. Wright Lacroix sips his white wine as he tries to insert himself into the conversation, and you feel deeply uncomfortable.

The next time there’s a natural lull, he pounces.

“I’m not here to critique your ideology this time, my dear. I am here to offer some friendly, constructive advice. Your accent, it's…difficult to follow. Impenetrable, at times. You speak very quickly, you know, and not all of us are used to having colleagues or tutors with an accent.”

You silently try to draw on some of the grounding techniques you’d learned for anxiety, willing yourself to stay calm.

“Technically, everyone’s got an accent,” you say quietly.

He understood that, alright. “Be that as it may - think about your new surroundings.” He speaks to you as if you are from another planet. “Speak more slooooowly. Enunciate. Yes?”

Your eyes are starting to prickle with tears but fury is rising in your chest. Fuckwit Numero Uno, indeed.

“There’s nothing wrong with how Lydia speaks, Kevin.” Ben, behind you, has overheard the last part of the conversation. “No one else has trouble understanding. Do you, Andrew?”

Professor Whitney is flustered, eyes darting between the three of you. “I…do not.”

Kevin Lacroix looks like he’s sucking a lemon. “Another bit of friendly advice, Lydia.” He flicks a glance at Ben before returning to stare at you. “Choose your friends here carefully. Though, admittedly, it looks like Morales here has already won you over.”

That fucking exaggerated pronunciation, again.

The red mist descends.

“Oh, okay. Enough. There you go again. I know your colleagues can’t say this - but I can. I’m not a permanent colleague, am I?” You’re trying not to raise your voice, but it’s taking every ounce of self-control you have not to let this creep have it.

Lacroix looks startled, clearly unused to someone letting rip.

“I don’t know exactly what your problem is, but I can take a pretty good guess. And if this is the stuff you throw out in public about someone like Ben - I mean, about Professor Morales - then I can only imagine what you say in private about your colleagues. And it’s disgraceful. No wonder you can’t abide the work being done to make this a more diverse and inclusive institution.”

You do not notice that the hum of conversation in the rest of the room has died down, as your colleagues turn their ears and eyes towards you.

“I genuinely don’t care if you think I speak quickly or not, but I do care that I’m about to spend a year in a working environment where someone can undermine their colleagues on the basis of their ethnicity or identity or gender or their first language or even just what they teach. That is not the image this college should want going out into the world.” You glance over at Andrew Whitney, who shifts uncomfortably.

“I don’t need your advice on how I speak, Professor Lacroix, and I certainly don’t need your advice on choosing friends. I think I’ve done pretty well so far on that front, you know?”

It’s only when you turn to meet Ben’s gaze that you realise everyone has been watching and listening to you tearing strips off K. Wright Lacroix. There’s a note of concern in Ben’s eyes, and when you look for Ani you see them mouth the words “Fuck, Lyd”.

You fucked up. This isn’t how they do things. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Fuck.

“Um, Professor Whitney? I will follow the official complaints procedure, just to keep everything above board, and…yeah. Excuse me.”

You walk as quickly as you can out of the house, settling on one of the wooden chairs out front as you try to quell the panic starting to grip your whole body.

Deep breaths, and the sound of the sea. Eyes closed, you concentrate on your breathing and on the waves lapping at the shore.

“Hey.”

Ben is standing beside you, a plate with a lobster roll in one hand and a glass of what looks like lemonade in the other. “I don’t think you managed to get a lobster roll in there, did you?”

You shake your head, and he hands you the food and drink, tilting his head as if he’s trying to read your mood.

“I wouldn’t mind some company, if you’d like?” You gesture to the other chair, placed just to the right of yours. He does that little half-smile of his and sits down, looking out to sea as you tuck into your food.

“Oh, fuuuuuuuck me!”

Ben turns, startled. You swallow the bite of your lobster roll.

“M’sorry. It’s just so good. I didn’t realise how hungry I was. Or hangry, maybe.”

“You didn’t have to say that, you know? Inside.” He looks back out towards the Atlantic, brow slightly furrowed.

“I’m really sorry, Ben. I just…me and my big mouth. I am so sorry if I’ve caused trouble for you, and - fuck. Not even been here a month and I’m a troublemaker. Typical.”

“You’re not a troublemaker, Lydia. I meant that you didn’t have to feel it was on you to take Lacroix to task like that.” He turns slightly towards you and a smile creeps over his face. “But I’m kind of glad you did. Dropping that ‘international reputation’ thing with Andrew Whitney there? Fuck, Lyd. It was…pretty badass.”

“I just hate that fucking gatekeeping shit from people like…him. It’s hard enough making it in this job without connections and family prestige or whatever he’s got.” You shrug. “And anyway, you stuck up for me and my accent, too.”

He hums thoughtfully as he watches the surf breaking on the sand. “It’s what friends do, isn’t it?”

You study his profile for a moment. The art historian in you is somewhat tickled by its near-classical proportions, noting the strong curve of his aquiline nose. You’d never noticed the little heart-shaped patch of bare skin in his beard before, either.

“It’s really beautiful here, isn’t it?” you say quietly, turning your gaze back to the water. “Maybe they’ll let me just move out here for the duration of the visiting role, keep me in lobster rolls all year.”

He chuckles. “It is beautiful. It’s nice to have the ocean relatively close. And hey, if you do stay here and need help eating the lobster rolls, well…”

A crunch on the gravel of the front yard interrupts the conversation. Ani has come to find the two of you.

“They’re loading us back on the buses to campus now, dudes. You okay, Lyd?”

You pop the last of the lobster roll into your mouth and give them a thumbs up.

“More than okay. Apparently, I’m a badass now.”

This time, you wink at him.

(bookshelf divider by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more)

Further A/N: Kevin Lacroix's comments to Lydia about how she speaks and her 'having an accent' are, believe it or not, based on actual stuff that was said to me by a colleague at a conference in the US.

Reminder: everyone has an accent.

Thanks, as ever, to the Visiting headcanons and sounding board: @cutesyscreenname, @julesonrecord, @lunapascal, @imaswellkid

#visiting fic #visiting masterlist #mr ben snl #professor ben x OFC #mr ben #pedro pascal character fanfic #mr ben x ofc #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal #Spotify

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baron-a-w-k · 9 months ago

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Going through my mind before setting off, I felt like Bilbo Baggins going on adventure. Jumping up and down getting ready, warming up for the ride, while waiting for my friends to come outside and see me off. On my phone I was getting likes and good luck messages from friends on twitter. I knew the encouragement from them was sending positive vibes through me. I then set up a playlist of music, which would help me on my first leg.

Then at 11pm my friends came out, with her boyfriend; I went over to them, and they gave me their blessings. I hugged my friend goodbye, and her boyfriend went with me to film me starting off on my journey. He started the recording, and I said, “see you all in Portsmouth”. Then off I went, into the dark heading west. I started iTunes, ready to press play on playlist. What I didn’t realise was that I had forgotten to save the playlist, so I stopped and picked out a couple of songs. The music kicked in and off I went, knowing I wouldn’t be home till later the next day.

Receiving comments on my phone from friends on twitter still wishing me luck inspired me as I was going at my own pace. The progress along the A13 was going fine, first came the railway bridge nice and easy to get over and once over I could freewheel for a bit. Then onto the second, this time a bit steeper as it crosses the River Rodin. As I was freewheeling down and made sharp ‘S’ turn, off the main road and onto a dedicated cycle path. Halfway down the path I noticed a four-legged animal standing there on the cycle lane. So, I came to a complete stop so as not to disturb it. To my surprise, three more appeared - it was a family of foxes foraging around for food. I kept still and watched, thinking ’just don’t disturb them’. So, for ten minutes I waited.

Then a nutter on an electric bike whizzed by me, giving me a shock, and straight into the path of the foxes. I thought ‘Mad sod!’. The foxes noticed what was coming towards them and quickly scarpered. So, I took off, pedalling slowly to see if they were still around, but the family were gone. Oh well I thought and carried on, knowing I knew was pushed for time as I wanted to get Westminster and be within sight of the tower as Big Ben struck midnight. However, that wasn’t meant to be, because it took me thirty minutes just to reach the edge of the City of London, 2 ½ miles from the tower. I kept looking at the time on my phone. Could I get to Big Ben before midnight? I had five minutes. So, I sped up doing my best.

Then, cycling down Castle Baynard Street, I saw three men on publicly rentable ‘Boris bikes’ up ahead in a narrow tunnel. They were cycling erratically and there was way to overtake them. I thought ‘Great people who can’t ride a safely.’ Looking at the time on my phone, I realised there was now no chance of making it in time, so slowed down waiting for the opportunity to pass them.

After a couple of minutes, where the Embankment passes under Waterloo bridge, the cycle lane widened and I went into high gear flying past them, ringing my bell to warn people on the side pavement that I was about to pass them. When I finally reached Big Ben, it had already chimed midnight, so I pulled over outside the main gates to the Houses of Parliament.

I took the opportunity to look at the notifications on my phone, then took a photo of the clock, showing the ‘ten past twelve’ on its face. ‘Maybe next time I will get here in time,’ I thought.

Five minutes later I was back on the road, for the next leg, heading for the Thames path at Richmond bridge, where I intended to take a break. My usual route to Richmond takes about an hour. The warm night air was making my throat dry, and I was sweating like mad so, about half-an-hour, passing a pub next to Parsons Green, I decided to stop. Unfortunately for me, the pub was closed, and the staff were cleaning up ready to go home. Seeing a woman sweeping up outside, I explained what I was doing and asked if I was too late to get a drink. She said that I was too late, but kindly she went back inside and got me a full pint of water. I drank most of it and poured the rest over my head to cool me down. After thanking her, I got talking to these young gentlemen, who must have drunk the pub dry as they looked totally paralytic. We chatted for about fifteen minutes. I told who I was and explained to them what I was doing. They thought it was a kind act and after that I was back on the road, heading over Putney bridge and along Putney High Street, before turning right at the lights for Richmond.

The travel-time between Putney and Richmond didn’t feel as long as it had done in the past. The roads were very quiet, mostly people walking along the street after a good night out. Then I finally made it, pulling off the main road into a small park then down the ramp onto the Thames path.

Making my way to the park bench I usually sit on, I stopped and got off the bike. Sitting down, I got my food and drink out of my bag and tucked in. I thought it was going to be quiet, however the sound of people still enjoying themselves filled the air. After finishing, I recorded an update video for twitter, stating were I was. Then I decided to move to a different park bench and try and get thirty minutes shut eye.

I called my mother to let her know where I was and after a few minutes, this random stranger approached me. But you will find out more about what happened next in part two…

#cycling #adventure #charity #blog

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artdecosupernova-writing · 1 year ago

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OC Kiss Week Day 1: Almost

WIP: Partners Pairing: Ben x Reagan Timeline: non-canon, but 1969 (the time of the majority of PIII) CW: none Rating: T Words: 1,776 (🤙🏽)

***

"Alright, Reagan, let's try it once more from the top of the scene..."

Ben watched Reagan push himself off of the couch in the rehearsal room, pressing his thumbs into his eyebrows with a weary sigh. His scene partner, however—gorgeous Hollywood "It girl" and rising star Favra Violetta—glided off the couch to eagerly await him on the blocking tape beside the false door standing in for the real, eventual movie set.

As he crossed to her, Reagan threw a glance at his director to verify if that's what he meant by "from the top" before swiping his palms together. "You don't think I've got this acting thing figured out by now, Jimothy?"

"Shut up," grumbled Academy Award-winning director James Fernando as he took exactly two long steps to position himself at a prime angle to best view the scene. "Okay, you're back in the house, you're casting aside the horrible day, you're in your coat and soaking wet from the rain." James gestured to Favra. "Your beautiful wife has music on, and you smell dinner in the kitchen, and the only thing you can think to do despite all the bleakness and the misery is dance with this amazing woman. It's not difficult."

Ben crossed his arms in the spot where James once stood, an unregistered smirk on his face at the promise of watching Reagan have to dance again. "I'm so sorry this is the direction your career decided to take you."

Reagan shot him a third of a glare that melted into a boyish grin the moment his fingers wrapped around the doorknob.

"Right," James said, clapping his hands. "Action!"

A record started from the other side of the room, a kicky tune that likely would be replaced for filming. Reagan shut the door behind him, his shoulders heavy, eyes cast to the floor, and in the way he carried himself, he looked soaked to the bone from a nonexistent downpour. He stepped forward but stopped, recognizing the music, and his vacant gaze fell on Favra's Sadie bustling about the simulated living room.

She turned and smiled at him, smoothing down the waistband of her trousers. "Hey there, Mitchie."

What Reagan was supposed to do, here, was wait a beat, and then sweep Favra into a mid-tempo dance that carried them joyfully around the living room. Instead, he frowned and bit his lip.

James looked at Ben over his shoulder with a huff of desperation.

Ben shrugged. "He's got the yips."

"And how in the hell do I fix that?"

Ben swiped a thumb across his nose, taking in Favra's olive skin and endless brown eyes. He shook his head. "He lacks chemistry with Favra. It's kinda weird for him not to click instantly with...well, anyone, and it's probably nothing against you, Favra...but until he's able to find that spark there, I don't really see this working out the way you want it to."

"Yeah," James sighed. "Wonderful."

Favra dropped character and pulled her dark hair over one shoulder, motioning toward Ben. "Why doesn't he try the scene with Mr. Murray? Maybe going through the motions with someone he's comfortable with will help loosen him up?"

"I'm also standing right here in case one or all of you decide to consult me on the matter," Reagan said.

James nodded and waved impatiently. "Sure, sure, if Reagan's good with it, we'll do it that way. I would like to be confident in this scene sometime before I fall down dead of old age." He punctuated his sentence with a dramatic flop of the hand and a raspberry sound effect.

Favra graciously allowed Ben to take her place, and he did, with much apprehension. He'd been on the big screen a few times—once in a major way with Reagan—but he'd still never gotten used to the practice and found himself a bit nervous even though it was only rehearsal.

Since he was a temporary substitute, he went the comedic route with his miming, pretending to use a vacuum that started to suck up the toe of one of his socks as Reagan's Mitchie walked into the house.

"Good, good!" James said. "Music cue's late, but roll with it!"

Ben glanced up as the music hastily kicked on, and he smiled at Reagan much like he'd watched Favra do several times leading up to this. "Hey there, Mitchie."

Reagan stood where Ben imagined there'd be a step leading down into a sunken living room. He didn't know how long had passed since Reagan shut the door, but it was long enough to affect a wistful, bittersweet stare right into Ben's face.

He dragged himself, "wet" and "tired," into the living room and started to bounce a bit to the beat of the music. He acted out setting the vacuum cleaner aside and took Ben's hands.

"What're you doin'?" Ben asked, still on script and pulling his smile as far as it could go. He stopped needing to try when Reagan began to guide him in earnest, swinging his hips into a gradually more enthusiastic partnered Watusi.

Ben met him with every move, spinning with him, letting the music and the laughter sweep him into another mindset entirely. He remembered almost too late that the script then called for Sadie to break away and for Mitchie to chase her around the living room until he caught up to her by the couch and they shared a passionate kiss.

He would've brought the rehearsal to an end had he not clocked the mischievous sparkle in Reagan's eye as they danced fairly close to one another.

"Sadie, go!" James barked cheerfully.

Without another thought, Ben took off, a strange giggle bubbling out of him, fueled in part by adrenaline and mostly by the years that sloughed off of him just by being silly with Reagan. It brought him back to their school dances, their respective weddings, the time on the secluded beach before Reagan moved back to Ireland...

Ben screeched to a sudden halt in front of the couch and whipped around to Reagan, his heart slamming into his chest and a bolt of thrilled fear shooting through every extremity of his body as Reagan bore down on him like a beast of prey.

Like a movie reel flashing before his eyes, he recalled Reagan's twenty-first birthday, their rough and wasted first kiss against the brick wall in the alleyway he still wasn't sure some twenty-seven years later that he didn't yearn to remember in full...the drunken, highly charged striptease Reagan gave as a parting gift when they went to the beach alone...every time they'd give each other a quick kiss because they just loved one another that much and didn't care who knew it—

Reagan grabbed Ben around the waist, fervently cupped his face, and kissed him.

Ben did not expect that.

For comedic purposes? Sure. But to put his heart into it, his soul into it, to pull Ben closer and dig his fingers into his hair, to zap his knees of strength, to splay his other hand against the small of Ben's back? To take a man in his forties still recovering from a mental breakdown nearly a decade ago, a man who still couldn't fully admit to himself that his mind made up the rest of what happened on that beach, and whittle him down to a trembling mess sinking into his arms as the kiss became more and more meaningful?

When Reagan pulled away, Ben didn't even notice at first. Ben pried his eyes open and he was slammed with Reagan's beauty, his incredible smile, his blown pupils, and the sneaky dart of his tongue across his own bottom lip.

Why was Ben not able to do this all the time? Why was he wherever he was right now, whatever they were doing, whatever was going on, and not enjoying this every minute of every day? Why was he so pressured, so stupid, so restrained, so sad, why wasn't he running away to live with Reagan in blissful devotion and adoration for the rest of their lives...?

...Faye.

"Son of a fuckin' dumbass," he breathed sharply, swiping the back of his hand over his mouth.

"Right, excellent!" James clapped once again, laughing boisterously and scaring the daylights out of Ben. "That's great! Favra, whenever you're ready, dear. We'll run through it one more time to make sure we're in a good place."

Ben's eyes had gone wide as soon as his wife's name entered his mind. He swallowed slowly, making the mistake of dropping his face toward the ground. Reagan hadn't let go of him yet, and Ben felt an almost imperceptible squeeze around his midsection, an apology, a clutch of barely concealed terror. Reagan pressed his lips to the side of Ben's head, and then it was over.

Favra smiled at Ben as the actors reset the scene. Ben finally looked back to Reagan, spotting the regret veiling his face prior to getting into character again.

Standing to the side to watch the scene again, Ben could see the added frustration, the added fire in Reagan's performance that had definitely not been there mere moments ago. Reagan chased Favra around the couch, caught up with her, pulled her into a kiss that made Ben's lungs feel as if they were being squeezed.

Ben's forehead creased. James called it a night on that day's rehearsals.

Reagan drove Ben home from the studio in silence. Sometimes, most of the time, their silences meant nothing. They could endure an entire car ride without a word and be quite comfortable. But this time was different, and it made Ben's entire head hot. Even the crisp air exposed to them via the Capri convertible did not help.

Halfway to Ben's house, Reagan switched on the radio. Serendipity or a happy coincidence, he'd tuned into the last seconds of one of their songs from their Gilmore and Murray days.

Ben carefully looked over to Reagan, who broke into a warm smile and caught his eye while maintaining focus on the road.

"'Sendin' me into a tailspin...'" Reagan sang along, his voice soft and pillowy against the chaos of the L.A. streets. "'No matter what kinda mood I'm in...'"

"Forgetting everything I know,'" Ben joined in, "'I'd wanna see you again before I go...'"

Reagan led them into the crescendo, "'But I'm not goin' yet, I'd be a fool to put down a losin' bet...'"

Ben threw his arms up into the air. "'So we're on! Our! Way!'"

Reagan laid down some jazzy vocal runs behind Ben's sustained final note, and things went almost back to normal...

#ockiss24 #Partners #PIII #I promise the books aren't all in Ben's POV lol #also I'm a little high so I'm not really in a place to do last-minute edits whoops

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toxicanonymity · 2 years ago

Text

The Hardware Store. Ben's Hardware Ch. 2

4050 words / Ben Solo x Rey / ch 1, ch 3

Warnings: I8+ mdni. Sexual tension, dubcon via inappropriate use of the force, masturbation kind of, voice kink. Hardware Store AU but more than meets the eye. special thanks to @dark-scape

Rey thinks of him constantly, but the next few nights are dreamless. She returns to the hardware store on her next day off. Her cheeks are burning as soon as she walks through the sliding doors. She grabs a hand basket. She’s wearing a wool hat, even though it's not that cold. She feels less exposed this way. She heads for Aisle 39 as if he just hangs out there all the time. Her eyes dart around, unsure whether she’s hoping to see him. Her heart is racing. She reminds herself it was just a dream. It wasn't real. He hasn't tasted my skin or seen my tits. I have no idea what he sounds like when he comes.

Oof. Now she's all hot and bothered. Rey squares her chin. She's at the store to get a part and finish her project. Maybe she'll see the same worker, maybe she won't. Her heart aches to think she might not. She hasn't felt this irrational over a stranger since she was a teenager. She doesn't even know his name.

Aisle 39. He's not around. She sighs silently in a mix of relief and disappointment. She lazily browses, biding her time. She's looking for the whole dimmer, not just the knob after all. The whole package. When other workers walk by, she puts on an air of confidence so they won't help her and thereby ruin her excuse for talking to him.

She holds a dimmer in her hand and nods in approval as she pretends to read the back. After ten minutes of various versions of this, she tires and pulls out her phone, searching "LED dimmer." She locates a match and puts it in her basket. She has no idea what to do, installation-wise. She starts googling. She's going to need a screwdriver for the panel, and a voltage tester.

She wanders through the store with this list in mind, even though Poe and Finn surely have the tools at home. The screwdriver will depend on the screws. She finds herself in the nail and screw aisle and stares at the little bins on the shelf, thinking about the other night’s lucid dream. It was impossibly vivid. His skin was hot and soft. She wants to feel it again, feel it more. Feel *him* more. Feel him inside her. It wasn't real.

A voice like a bassline snaps her out of it. "What kind of screw do you need?"

Her heart catches in her throat. She turns. "Um, Hi. . . I hadn't given it much thought." She smiles with just a hint of sauciness. She must be emboldened by the illusion of having seen him naked…ish.

She sees him now: flannel shirt, black and yellow. Jeans. Radio clipped to his belt. No apron, no hoodie. Charcoal work jacket, collar erect . She likes it. She wonders if he's doing a different job today or if the new management is ditching the aprons. He steps a little closer and stands by her side, looking at the shelf with her. His arm brushes hers, and arousal moistens her panties. "Oh, I hadn't thought about it either," he reassures her, almost demurely. Is he teasing her? She smiles up at him. He’s so tall. He spreads his feet a little, just like he did when he was thumbing through the records. It wasn't real.

He surveys the shelf, then turns back to her. "So, you want to think about it, or want a hand figuring that out?" He could read her the tool catalog and it would sound sexy, but he's also asking a logical question. He follows it with, "What do you want to do?" And steps into her space.�� Interesting. The other night he made her make all the moves. It wasn't real.

"I, um-"

"Install this?" He leans closer, grabs the dimmer out of her basket, and turns the package over to read. God, he smells good.

She enjoys the intimacy of this. Surely he doesn't reach into just anyone's basket. She watches him brush his hair behind his ears and gives a small nod, captivated. She wets her lips.

"Oh yeah," he looks up in recognition. She wonders if he knew it was her when he came over. She reminds herself she might be just another customer to him. "You want to install this dimmer," he concludes, nodding with a contemplative pout.

His voice is like ASMR. It penetrates her skin. She inhales his scent. It's not cologne. It's more like a luxury shampoo. A masculine one. It really compliments the sawdust aroma of the store. She lets out a little sigh as he waits patiently. Feeling self-conscious, she explains her sigh. "I really haven't the faintest clue what I'm doing."

He drops his head a little, which only emphasizes his height when he’s this close to her. "Oh, don't sell yourself short," he says, letting that hang. He sweeps a few strands of hair behind his ear. His hand brushes the jacket collar and he doesn't put it down. He gazes absently at the screws.

She breaks the silence. "I mean really, how does it work?" Ugh, she thinks. Why did she ask that? She's certain he doesn't know a thing about hardware. She hopes this doesn't end the conversation. She should have waited to see where he took it.

The radio on his belt hisses with static a few times. Bleep, bloop. "Hux to Solo." A burst of static. "Solo, come in. Do you copy? Solo. Code 66. North port." He reaches to his hip and turns a knob to silence the intrusion with a clenched jaw. Her eyes follow his hand to his pants. His jeans are not exactly baggy. She shakes herself back to reality. What's code 66, she wonders.

"Hey. I'll be honest with you," he says. "This isn't really my department." No shit.

Rey nods, "yeah," wondering what his department is. Wood? There's a moment of silence.

"That obvious?" he glances down, then at her. No smile, but his eyes are warm. Almost hot. Before she can ask about his department, he adds, "Buuuut." The low hum of his voice gives her goosebumps and she tugs her sleeves down. He continues, "if you figure out what kind of screw you need. . ." her cheeks burn under her freckles, and her nipples harden. She crosses her arms. "I'm pretty good at reading the shelves, so I could help you find it," he finishes, straight faced. "The screw might depend on the outer panel on your wall at home," he suggests with a shrug.

Rey thinks about what kind of screw she *really* needs, and the left side of her bottom lip slides under her top teeth. The right side of his mouth breaks into a little smile and he searches her face. His eyes sparkle and his eyebrows raise like he's about to offer something. Rey hopes it's his number or at least his name.

An apron-clad worker arrives and receives somewhat of a glare for interrupting. "Sorry,” they look down nervously, “Hux needs you." They step back a little. Rey wonders if she should excuse herself.

His plush lips disappear into a straight line, and he jams his large hands into his pockets. He closes his eyes and his nose takes in a slow breath, like he’s calming himself. She wants to feel his nose on her neck, his breath against her mouth. He nods his head downward as he exhales, then reverses and stares straight up at the ceiling for a beat and blinks as he inhales.

With his neck outstretched, Rey sees a red mark on it. Her breath hitches, remembering what she did. It wasn't real. It's at the exact right spot. She feels naked. Her hand comes up to her own neck and her fingertips feel her heart racing. She studies the mark. It's two smaller marks, really. A perfect match with her teeth. She can still feel his skin between her lips. Now she can't even remember what they were talking about.

His deep voice sharpens, and he turns to the worker. "Tell him I'm with a customer.” He rises to the tips of his toes then rocks back down. The heels of his work boots land with a soft rubber thud and he looks at the worker expectantly.

The worker looks hesitant, but replies "Of course," and scurries off. Rey wonders if Hux is his boss. Bold response, if so. She stares again at his neck, though she can't see the mark as well in the shadow of his hair and collar. His hand follows her gaze, and his finger traces his red skin. Shit. He noticed. Rey wants to crawl into her wool hat.

"Sorry," she blurts out.

"Oh. . ." he says, dropping his head a little. His hair falls into the far side of his face, forming a private curtain for them. "Don't be. It didn't hurt," he adds, almost reassuringly. She's frozen. Her mouth is dry. She swallows. He quickly corrects himself, "Doesn't. It doesn't hurt." He brushes the curtain of hair back.

Rey lingers on his words, with her lips slightly parted, then apologizes again, clarifying, "I didn't mean to stare." He shrugs and picks up a screw to examine. She wants that red mark to be hers so badly. Her panties throb. Then it hits her that the mark might be someone else's. Her temples feel weak, but she tries to brush it off for now.

"Occupational hazard," he says, dropping the screw back into its bin.

Rey's eyes drift to his jeans again, and she yanks them back up. She abruptly changes the subject, forgetting to ask which department is his. "Where's the apron?"

"Oh, I just haven't put it on yet," he answers.

"I liked your doodle," she explains, not wanting to sound like a Karen.

"You liked my. . ."

"Um, the death star."

"Ah, yeah.” He lights up. “Well, I'm glad to hear that. You know, not everyone-"

A stern voice comes over the intercom: "Benjamin to Greenery. Benjamin to Greenery. Please ."

His nostrils flare and his eyes widen as though to say, how dare he . He must be getting called back to his department. "Sorry, I have to go."

"Okay. . . Benjamin," Rey smiles brightly, adding an inquisitive raise of her eyebrows.

"Ben," he chuckles, and doesn’t ask her name. She's holding the hand basket with both hands. He gives her arm an affectionate squeeze as he turns to leave. "See you later, Rey."

Rey feels the blood leave her face at the sound of her name. "Sorry, what?"

He turns back. "See you later, I hope."

Maybe she heard what she wanted to hear the first time – her name sounds so safe in his mouth. But, he hopes. She smiles as he walks away with a swift, long stride.

Rey hopes she doesn't look too giddy. She feels observed. She adjusts her hat and clears her throat, then checks out and pays. She makes sure she has her keys and looks at her receipt on her way out. She reads it again, Ben's Hardware . . .she pines for his hardware. Maybe the Ben is his dad, and that's how he gets away with defying his manager. She feels a little bad for thinking it. He doesn't have a nepotism vibe. Common name, most likely a coincidence. "Ben," she whispers to herself, approaching her car. It really suits him. Masculine. Humble. She puts the receipt in her pocket.

As she reaches her car door, there’s a loud boom near the store. She looks back to see a white tractor trailer docked near the greenhouse. Men in pale jumpsuits appear to be loading crates *into* the truck. Maybe they're remodeling?

She sees Ben's silhouette mount the truck, his hair catching up to him in a bounce. He’s talking to someone. His hands are on his hips, his jacket pushed back behind him. He points with his thumb over his shoulder toward the store, then points with both hands into the truck. He drops an arm and pauses, as though waiting for an answer. He twists toward the parking lot, gesturing with both hands. He does a double take in her direction before pivoting back toward the inside of the truck. He steps further into the truck. As she gets in her car, she hears something clang – from inside the truck, she thinks. She wonders briefly if Ben has a temper, but she can’t picture it.

Rey doesn’t have any other plans today, aside from stopping home to water her own plants. She thinks about finding out what kind of screw she needs and coming back to the store. She wonders if it would be too much to come twice in one day. Hey, that’s the kind of screw I need. Her mind drifts to his climax, and hers. It wasn't real.

Before she turns on her car, she looks in his direction one last time. Through the nursery, she can just barely see Ben hop down out of the truck. She can't pull herself away just yet. It's like a magnetic force. She feels it in her whole body. Being in the same parking lot as him is enough to make her tingle. Her stomach growls.

Outside the Café

It's another rare weekday off, so Rey decides to visit Chalmun's Café next door before she leaves. When she comes out with her soup, she notices the white tractor trailer has moved out of view. She sits on the patio. It's still bright for December. She finds her sunglasses. She kind of feels like a creep sitting there, but she's been going there for years and even worked for Chalmun in high school. Granted, she's never eaten outside.

Rey will feel less creepy if she doesn’t stare at the store. She scoots her chair, metal screaming on the concrete, to face the parking lot instead. As she situates herself, out of the corner of her eye, she thinks she sees Ben round the corner outside the nursery. Her heart races. She can’t help but glance. It’s him, and he seems to be in a heated argument with a slender, serious-looking man with red hair and pale skin. They pause at the corner.

Ben is facing the hardware store, but his voice is booming. “My customers need it. Find another way.” His customers? Rey smiles with a bit of second-hand embarrassment, but it's charming.

“Your customers, Ben?” The redhead raises his voice, incredulous, then reigns himself in. “Respectfully. We have one customer.” He's the voice from the intercom.

“Yes, my customers. My customers here ." He moves both hands in unison like he's explaining a logical sequence that should be common sense: "There’s no store without the customers, and there are no customers without inventory. Tell them the rest is staying here.”

The redhead looks distressed. “If we don’t deliv-”

Unmoved, Ben points at the truck. “Unload those last two crates, too.”

The redhead is exasperated. “I tried to call y-”

Ben continues, “You should have made a bigger order. Don’t they give you a list?”

“We can’t–there’s no–it’s the supply chain-"

“If I hear another word about the supply chain,” Ben warns him with a finger, and pauses. “Get another supplier." He shrugs with his arms raised, then tries to move on. "What the hell are they building now, anyway? Why could they possibly need so mu-”

“- What other suppliers?”

“I don’t know; Mitaka got new suppliers all the time!”

“Not in this business model,” the redhead responds. “That was before.” Their heads seem to be cooling. Rey can just barely hear.

“Suppliers are suppliers,” Ben insists. “And now, you’re ordering from a local hardware store. If anything, more of them should be willing to work with you. That was the whole point,” he sighs.

The redhead thinks for a moment, and seems to sour. He snaps, “Well I can’t exactly ask Mitaka where to find new suppliers. Maybe if you hadn’t-” She can��t hear the rest, or he stops.

Ben's hands ball into fists at his sides. He watches the redhead shrink. “If I hadn’t what?”

The redhead is coughing. He catches his breath and tries to rephrase. “I mean, if Mitaka was still-” He coughs again and starts over more gently. "If we hadn’t-”

“If HE hadn't. We had no choice. Figure it out, Hux," Ben commands. "And put on the apron.” Ben shoves a cloth bundle into his chest. As Hux raises a hand to receive it, Ben gives him an appreciative pat to soften the blow. Ben steps around him and through a back door to the store. Hux lingers there for a moment, his head bowed, the strings dangling from the apron. He scoffs and brings a radio to his mouth as he walks off.

Rey feels guilty for spying, but it was kind of sexy to see him dress Hux down like that, only because Hux seemed to deserve it. Hux must not be his manager after all. Is Ben the Ben? Or maybe he’s a logistics guy? She’ll learn more about him in due time, she thinks. She finishes her meal and leaves.

Today was the most Rey's ever spoken to Ben. The closest she's ever stood. The most he’s ever touched her in real life . Hopefully that won’t hold true for long. Her arm is still vibrating from his little squeeze. And his aroma – goodness. She wants to figure out what it is so she can inhale it before she sleeps. Anything to see him again. Citrus and eucalyptus? She scolds herself. She has to find some kind of release. Her gym bag is in the hatch, she remembers. She can make the next boxing class before she goes home.

The Gym

Rey braids her hair into pigtails to keep it out of her face. The first third of class is on the bags, mostly kicking, then she stretches. It feels good to limber up her groin. It’s been holding a lot of tension. Next, they use handheld strike pads, rotating match-ups with class members. “Damn, who pissed you off today?” the instructor remarks. “Pair up.” Time to spar.

There are no other women to spar with today, so she pairs off with the smallest guy. It’s not the first time she's fought him. He once decked her in the mouth, even though heads are off-limits in class. She didn't blame him - reflexes are reflexes - but she doesn’t hold back as much now. By the end of the match, he looks dejected and embarrassed, and she's finally worn out. She gives him an apologetic pat on the back on her way to the locker room. She feels kind of bad but also satisfied. He returns the gesture and as he raises his arm, she catches a whiff of her victory. There’s something about the smell of men, she admits. Even men that don’t interest her.

***

Rey peels off her sports bra and leggings, which are already cold with sweat, and grabs two towels to hit the sauna. She steps in and feels the warm floor under her feet. She wraps a towel around herself and puts another down on the wood bench. She takes a seat, sinking back into the wood. The sauna is dimly lit with a salt lamp. She undoes her pigtails then leans her head back again.

Her mind and body are humming with the afterglow of seeing (and hearing) Ben. Her mind replays things he said to her today, conjuring his voice as best she can. “. . . want my help figuring that out?” She smiles and bites her lip. It was so hard to pull herself away from him. He seemed just as reluctant to leave her presence, she realizes: "Tell him I'm with a customer."

She remembers Ben's confrontation with Hux in the parking lot. She wants to focus on Ben’s booming voice, but the echo of Hux creeps in. “We have one customer.” She can’t help but dwell on it and wonder if there’s something else at play. It’s none of her business, she tells herself. She doesn't want to know. She tries to release Hux from her mind. The sight of him is killing the mood, too.

Suddenly she hears Ben’s voice out loud, gentle and clear as a bell: “You heard nothing. It’s just a hardware store." It stops her breath and startles her eyes open. Her skin is gooseflesh and her nipples are pebbles. How did she do that, she wonders. It was like he was there. She breathes to slow her heart rate. Once she can relax again, she tries to hear him say something a little sexier. "If you figure out what kind of screw you need . . ." but she doesn’t hear it out loud. It doesn't echo or send a prickle up her neck.

She can't remember what she was thinking about just before. Her thoughts turn to the dream, Ben's arms moving her up and down, the shine of cum on his shredded torso. She rewinds to the beginning of the dream and tries to hear him say “you can sit anywhere you want." She doesn’t hear it out loud, but the memory is enough to stir something between her legs. She clenches her thighs together firmly. Now this sauna is getting hot. She adjusts her towel at the top.

“Lower,” the voice says out loud. “As low as you want,” it encourages. Oh . She remembers the towel around her chest. Okay, she’ll play this game with herself. She tugs the towel a little lower and a nipple peeks out. There were no other women in class, so no one will barge in.

“How do you feel,” Ben’s voice says. Her heart swells, and her eyelids feel heavy.

Relaxed, she thinks. This is incredibly realistic. How is she doing it? Incapacitating lust is a hell of a drug, she thinks. Extreme fatigue doesn’t hurt, either. She relaxes her shoulders. She tingles all over. She closes her eyes gently. “Say something else,” she whispers to no one.

“Do you want to touch yourself?” his voice asks.

No, Rey thinks, startled. At the same time, she reaches to massage the muscle that connects her pec to her armpit, which aches from striking. She lets her palm rest on her nipple and grazes it lightly. Wetness seeps into the towel she's sitting on as she recalls how his lips felt on her breasts. She breathes in through her mouth. It wasn’t real.

“Where else?” Ben’s voice asks. She clenches her thighs again, tighter. “Don’t be shy,” it encourages. She lets her other hand part the towel and find its way to the apex of her entrance. She holds her hand there, but doesn’t press down. She can feel the energy there. She thinks about his hard cock against her. Ben's hard cock. It’s the only thing she wants to feel.

“How?” she whispers, wondering how this works.

“Fuck me,” his voice answers.

“How?” she thinks silently

“Just ask.”

She relaxes, releasing everything but her memories. Her fingers are resting gently, practically hovering, right near her sensitive bud. She feels his cock pressing against her. She begins to move her middle and ring fingers in a come hither motion, without physically touching her own skin. Truly, all she wants to feel is Ben.

Gradually, she feels his cock sliding against her to the rhythm of her fingers. He feels amazing. She hears him breathing. She slows her hand, and his cock slows with it. He softly moans. It's an exhilarating sensation. It’s like she's pulling on invisible strings, operating him as her personal toy. She speeds up again. The sauna begins to smell like bergamot and eucalyptus. She wants him desperately. Needs him.

“Take it.”

A pang of pleasure in her core begins to pulse outward. She clenches her legs desperately, and she comes. In public. Her face contorts into a grimace, her head turns to the ceiling, her aching muscles jolt, her feet lift off the warm ground, her back off the bench.

She catches her breath and wipes sweat off her face. It’s the relief she needed. She sinks back into the wood bench, wishing it was his chest. She hears him breathing so clearly that it could be someone else. She panics to close her towel as she opens her eyes and is relieved she's still alone.

Thank you for reading and engaging!!

Chapter 3

#adam driver character #ben solo fanfic #ben solo smut #kylo ren smut #ben solo x rey #kylo ren #kylo ren x rey #toxicanonymity ☠️#reylo fanfic #reylo smut #reylo #inappropriate use of the force #wrong use of the force #tw dubcon #star wars fanfiction

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