#I quote this to my mom occasionally

[sinhasfluffyheadfur]

Very beautiful, very powerful

i WILL make lump fish a Trendy Animal like axolotls and isopods. no one can stop me

[inbabylontheywept]

Weird Grandpa Story #2

I remember asking my mom once, if her dad had gotten ornerier as he'd gotten old. I'd heard about that happening, and it would've made sense for him. He was already the orneriest old cuss I'd ever met. Couldn't even imagine him being grumpier than he was.

Instead of answering the question directly, she told me about what it was like going to church with him as a kid. Their church was a small Mormon ward out in the sticks of Colorado, and he served as their Bishop - mostly by virtue of being the only one willing to do that much unpaid work. He was also the ward pianist. He actually liked playing piano, and he liked having an audience, so it was more or less understood that he was willing to be the bishop in exchange for being the pianist. 

Which could've been a good trade, but there were a few problems.

The first problem was that Grandpa Dale played every song at about triple speed. He was a deeply impatient person, and that extended to how he played music. The second problem was that he had a bad habit of cursing under his breath. That would've been a scandalous  enough habit for a Mormon bishop, but was made much worse (and also much funnier)  by him being pretty damn deaf. So what he thought of as "quiet" cursing under his breath was more of just a verse hoarse way of yelling. I only visited him for a week or two every summer, and I still learned most of my bad words from him. 

So every Sunday would start with a quiet prayer, and then Bishop Grandpa Dale would go to the piano, sit down, and play the nightcore version of Praise to the Man. He would occasionally play other hymns, but he really, really liked that one. This would continue until he hit a wrong note, which was basically inevitable because his music philosophy was that if he could play a song flawlessly, it was time to play it faster. So he'd play until he hit that wrong note, at which point he would scream-whisper SHIIIIIT and, because he did not actually read music so much as memorize it, the only way he'd be able to get his rhythm back was by going back to the start. 

If it was a good Sunday, he could get it in two tries. Some Sundays took as many as five. 

I learned two things about Grandpa Dale from this story. The first was that he could play piano. I'd never actually seen him do that before. Still haven't, come to think of it. Second was that the man that I visited once a year, who always seemed on the verge of exploding, who scared the absolute dickens out of me, was actually the chilled out version of the man my mom grew up with.

And it helped knowing that, actually. I'm actually a pretty anxious person, and my mom is, also, a pretty anxious person, and as a teenager we'd sometimes get in these doom loops where we'd wind each other up until our springs cracked. She'd be worried about me growing up to be happy, and I'd be worried about letting her down, and my worrying would make me unhappy, and my unhappiness would make her unhappy, and we'd just kind of dissolve into these anxieties like cotton candy in the sea and become totally unbearable to be around for a bit. Then my dad would sit us both down and very politely tell us that we were being crazy. He had this quote how being sad that someone else is sad that you're sad is the emotional equivalent of being a Klein flask and that at some point you have to just say I am allowed one (1) single layer of emotional recursion, at most, and ideally zero. 

And it was always kind of embarrassing and silly, but when I was tempted to be more upset with my mom about it, I could remember the piano story and go: Sheesh. She has more of a right to be anxious that I do. For me it's really just genetics, but she grew up with the Cactus-Killing Gopher-Smasher. A whole 18 years of that. I spent two weeks every summer with that guy, and I love him, but I always came home feeling like I'd survived something. She's a trooper.

[attapullman]

That's Mine | Robert "Bob" Floyd

Summary: Bob likes Rooster. He does. So why does he suddenly hate him when his childhood best friend agrees to go out on a date with the pilot?

Word Count: 5.8k

Warnings: f!reader, 18+ ONLY as always, smut, protected pinv, oral (f receiving), praise!kink, fluff, dirty humour, alcohol mentions, sorry to all the Rooster girlies

Author's Note: This is my official jealous best friend!bob entry for my event International Bob Floyd Fucks Month. Thank you to everyone who has celebrated this silly little thing and continued the Bob Fucks agenda. I just love him so much. Save a Rooster, ride a Bob!

“What do you mean Rooster asked you out?” 

He’s hot on your heels through the house, following you out to where you’re watering the ferns on the deck. You can’t see his face, but the simmering annoyance is palpable. In your mind’s eye you can see the little vein that pops out only when he’s seriously irritated. An emotion he reserves only for you.

Who would have guessed that two strangers pairing up for a Mommy & Me class decades ago would evolve into the inseparable, eye-rolling, belly laughing attachment of you and your best friend. He keeps you focused, eyes on the prize and safely home by ten. You bring Robby out of his shell, actually wanting to jump in and join the crowd. Occasionally both giving each other a headache, but always ending with a punch on the shoulder while sharing a carton of Haagen Daas. 

You roll your eyes and stick your tongue out at him. He’s being so annoying about this Rooster thing.

It’s been four months since you followed him out to San Diego. A quick summons to Top Gun that led to him out in the middle of the ocean while you whined to your roommate about what if he doesn’t come home this time? How could you possibly survive without him infodumping about WWI missiles and whether milk or dark chocolate made better cookies? 

And then you’d gotten the call,  B.O.B. flashing across the screen and the photo from that summer in high school where he let you paint a butterfly on his face. The mission was successful. He was safe. And he was staying in Fightertown permanently with this squadron. A few months later, when your roommate accidentally lit your stove on fire, he asked if you wanted to come down and stay for a few weeks. By the end of the month you had rented a small craftsman and his truck was a regular fixture outside.

Then a month ago, when he’d swung by after work, khaki uniform freshly pressed, and asked if you wanted to come to the local Navy bar to meet the names he spent so much time talking to you about. Fiddling with the edge of his glasses, nervous you wouldn’t like his new crew as well as the Lemoore squadron you’d spent years befriending. But if they were good enough for Bob, they were good enough for you.

Rooster was hot. All curly auburn hair and big brown eyes. You’d hit it off quickly, the two of you against Phoenix and Bob, sharing stories about your beloved bespectacled WSO and his sassy quip of the day. Phoenix still couldn’t believe that Bob had used a Superbad quote for the high school yearbook. You still remember the horrified look on his mom’s face.

But last night had been different. Phoenix and Bob had huddled a Budweiser cup of peanuts and discussed strategy most of the night, Fanboy rounding off the table once he heard “electronic warfare”. Your best friend’s dedication to work was commendable, but what were you supposed to do at a Navy bar when he was busy? Luckily the baby cow-eyed pilot had taken pity and bought you a round, taking you out to the back deck to appreciate the beach while Hangman rowdily dominated the pool table. 

Rooster had been sweet, asking about your childhood with Bob and what you thought of San Diego. Between the kind male attention and the slutty light wash jeans, you were only human for looking up at him through your lashes and flirting a little. And you felt light as air when Bob came outside ready to take you home, your number in Rooster’s phone and a date secured for Friday. 

“Seriously? You’re not going to answer me?” Why was annoying Robby so fun? So sweet and calm under the most pressured of situations, every once in a while he prickled. 

You finish with the deck plants and retreat back inside, making sure the windowsill babies are plenty hydrated in the late afternoon sun. “Why do you care? You like Rooster.”

It’s alarmingly loud in the silence as he thinks through that one.

Because Bob does like Rooster. He’s a little older, outgoing, the kind of guy he trusts on a life-or-death mission. In the last few months he would even venture to say they’d become more friends than coworkers, Natasha always bringing them together for a night out. So why did it bother him so much when you said you were going out with Rooster tomorrow night?

Instead of answering, he keeps his conflicted thoughts to himself and starts helping with the plants. There’s no point in an argument he’s not going to win, especially when he’s not sure what he’s even fighting for.

You watch him out of the corner of your eye, metal frames glinting in the low afternoon light, gelled hair out of formation from training with his helmet on all day. Maybe you did overstep by agreeing to go out with one of his coworkers. “You want to get street tacos and make fun of C-list celebrities?” 

His eyes light up as he nods and overwaters your calathea.

Half a six pack of Mexican lager later and the two of you are sprawled across the living room furniture, Bob’s socked feet up on the coffee table and yours over the arm of the wingback he helped you haul home four years ago. Save the fuzzy tipsiness clouding your senses, you’re transported back to weekend nights in high school. Watching old John Hughes movies and laughing so hard soda shot up your nose. Life has been full of so many incredible opportunities, but evenings in front of the TV with Robby are your most cherished memories.

“Oh my god!” you squeal. “Could he be any more cringeworthy? Put a shirt on!” Your fingers cover your eyes, pretending to be offended by the young twentysomething currently stripping off on your trashy television show of choice. 

Bob laughs from his spot on the sofa, beer can dwarfed in that massive hand. “Oh please, you love when they’re half naked for no reason.” He feels that weird tug in his chest for the second time today, but chalks it up to the meat from his street tacos. 

You roll your eyes playfully, giving him that toothy smile you’ve perfected since elementary school. “Ya,” you slur a little. “But as my best friend you’re not allowed to judge.”

As if he could find fault in you.

Payback has been talking to him for the past twenty minutes. Bob hasn’t heard a word. Just continues staring at the front door of the Hard Deck like it will magically conjure you. 

You’re out with Rooster right now, at that restaurant with the breathtaking ocean view and spicy mozzarella sticks. And while you didn’t tell him, he knows you’re wearing the dress with the eyelet lace and your hair down for once. And you’re probably giving him that toothy grin while he talks about 80’s music and shows you photos of working on the Bronco. You’re likely planning your second date already.

He likes Rooster. He likes Rooster. He likes Rooster. So why does he suddenly hate him?

Payback has completely given up on conversation when the door opens and in strides that floral print smug son of a bitch. Bob’s hand grips the table, grounding himself that it’s not a hallucination. Rooster’s hand is respectfully on your waist, leading you through the throng of Friday night patrons. And you look pretty as can be in that dress, your hair slightly covering your warm cheeks and bashful eyes as a strong man looks after you. 

The pilot grins at his squadron, tipping his chin in greeting, knowing he’s got the prettiest girl in the room on his arm. You give Bob a goofy lopsided grin, happy to see him after a lovely night out. Happy that Rooster offered to drop you by before taking you home so you could see your best friend. 

There’s nervous energy bubbling under your skin, eager to download about your dinner and drinks, and you wish you were back at home in the kitchen, mugs of hot chocolate in your hands while you and Robby gabbed about your latest romantic excursions like back in the day.

Things were so much simpler when you were seventeen.

Especially because back then he wasn’t weird when you had crushes, or met someone on Hinge. And he certainly didn’t give you that tight lipped frown that you want to smooth off his face. It’s you and him against the world, so why does it suddenly feel like it’s you against him?

“Hey Robby,” you start, giving him your gentlest smile. “You win darts?” He gives a half shrug, picking at his cup of peanuts. Cool, that’s how he’s gonna play it.

You sit next to Rooster at the piano, letting him play a few songs and rally the crowd. You’re a little bored of the repertoire you’ve heard on repeat since your first Hard Deck visit, but give him an encouraging smile nonetheless to be polite. 

You like Rooster. But even after a nice night, you know you don’t want to pursue this. Not at the sake of your friendship with Bob.

Everyone’s stomping their feet and slapping their hands to Ozzy Osbourne’s “Crazy Train” when exhaustion hits you. The back of your hand against your mouth signaling that you’ve had enough for one day. The sweet chocolate eyes of your piano partner give you a caring look as he asks if you want him to drive you home. The hope for a goodnight kiss twinkles in his eye.

“No need, I can take her!” It’s instant adrenaline the way the WSO has launched across the room. You rush to thank Rooster for a nice night as he’s left behind on the piano bench. Bob hasn’t said a single word to you all night and yet he’s borderline dragging you out to his truck. The calloused edges of his fingers digging into your bare arm, the soft flannel of his shirt brushing against your hands when he helps you into the truck. They’re all familiar feelings, yet tonight feels different.

He’s completely silent on the drive, the radio playing some alternative rock music barely audible over the silence. He may be quiet with others, happy to take a back seat, but he’s never had an issue piping up with you. It’s punishment. Punishment for trying to have a good time with a guy who you’ve decided you don’t want. 

When he parks in front of your cozy craftsman - the house he toured with you, helped you with the paperwork, bought the bubbly to commemorate the occasion - you’re both at a standstill. Last night you’d been able to put your differences aside for trashy television and tacos. Tonight…you’re just hoping he’ll come inside.

“Who do I gotta bang around here to get you to come inside?” His chuckle is weak, eyes looking anywhere but you.

Because while you’re trying to figure out where you’ve gone wrong, Bob has been having an existential crisis since Bradley fuckin’ Bradshaw put his hand on your waist. A crisis that’s been gaining speed since you followed him out to Lemoore all those years ago and has arrived at a screeching halt, crawling out of his throat. And he’s too shy to tell his lifelong best friend what’s been bothering him for as long as he’s known.

You’re…it. 

It’s the way you laugh with your entire face. How you always have a comeback. Your endless love for others. The endearing way you order a pancake for the table at brunch. You’ve been the entire package this whole time. And someone seeing it before him is infuriating.

He follows you inside, watching the way the light radiates at the high points of your face. This is going to be harder than expected.

Robert Floyd has known for years that his best friend is amazing. Practically his whole life. Not a single doubt they’d make an incredible partner. The tiniest crush forming at just how good of a partner. Daydreaming about their current arrangement - the movie nights, the early morning beach walks, the Sunday afternoon bubble tea runs - with a dash of domestic bliss had his heart thudding in his chest.

What he hadn’t been prepared for was Wednesday night, when he came to collect you for the drive home. Sitting next to Rooster, a cup of peanuts loosely hanging from your hand as you looked up at the pilot with long lashed eyes and a seductive twitch of a smile. The way you’d bitten your lip when you said goodbye, turning back to Robby with that flirty glint still in your eye; instantly resetting to friendly excitement as you followed him to the parking lot.

He needed to make you look at him like that.

And now here, in your living room, while you hand him a glass of water and look at him with those impossibly pretty eyes - fuck. How does he explain?

You’re concerned, watching the turmoil on his face and convinced you’ve seriously crossed a line this time. You’ve always been the troublemaker of the dynamic, the bursting bubbly energy to his impossibly sweet silence. Won’t he please share what’s on his mind?

He’s not sure if it’s the burning need to release this tension from his body, or the way your face looks so upset at his indecision, but suddenly the dam bursts. All rational thought out the window as he finally speaks up.

“If I don’t fuck you right now I think I might die.”

It’s impossible to tell whose eyes are wider. His in embarrassment that came out and so whiny. Yours in total shock. Your brain has blue screened and all you can do is blink slowly back into focus, centering on the pink cheeks and bashful baby blue eyes in front of you.

Licking your lips, you sputter out, “W-what?”

You both know you heard him. It was impossible not to with the intense neediness dripping out of every syllable. His carnal need to know what you feel like, taste like. The way those thick, long fingers of his tensed on his knee.

A thousand emotions pass behind your eyes, reflected in his glasses. A handful of ways to handle this situation, but only one makes sense. 

“Come over here. We can’t have you dying, now can we?”

There is nothing graceful about the collision of bodies that happens. Navy-trained strength meeting enthusiastic energy. He’s across the room before you can finish your sentence, the slight pause of uncertainty met with your bound into his arms. Warm lips finding each other, hesitant yet sure. The hands on your hips are familiar in a different circumstance. 

The waves crashing down on Bob’s brain slow, and he’s instantly soothed as he enjoys the subtle tang to your taste. You’ve worn the same perfume for the last decade, yet this is the first time it’s driven him wild. Pulling back, he takes a deep breath to fill his lungs with the perfect scent. His fingers, fast as light when he works controls, are slow and controlled over the curve of your waist. 

“I hate that Rooster touched you. You’re mine.”

“I’m yours?’

He leans forward, gaze level, breaths intermingling. “You’re mine.”

Eyes wide, glossy lip between your teeth…Bob hasn’t seen anything sexier in his life. Your arms wrap around his neck, fingers scratching along his scalp as you fight for dominance in your kisses. He’s gaining confidence the longer you moan into his mouth, a sinful sound he wasn’t prepared to hear. Years of listening to you talk about dates and crushes, and now he’s experiencing it first hand.

You’re caught up in the way he’s trailing his large hands up and down your torso, tentatively brushing against the curve of your ass. Waiting for him to call the shots for what happens next. Frustrated he hasn’t already spread you out on the stupidly expensive cotton duvet he convinced you to buy.

“Robby?” He hums, lips preoccupied with your neck. “Not to be ungrateful, but I thought you were going to fuck me?”

The deep scarlet that spreads across your best friend’s cheeks is one for the record books. Jackpot.

He’s practically falling over himself, hands everywhere at once as he collects his thoughts. “You’re sure…you’re sure you want this?”

The seething jealousy that’s consumed him since Wednesday has dissipated, and the horny fog has lifted temporarily. All that’s left is ensuring you’re both on the same page. Once this happens, there’s no going back. As much as he’s looking forward to taking off that pretty dress, you need to be ready to make the same leap.

Swallowing a deep breath, drowning in those eager cerulean blues, you shift your thigh to press against the bulge in his jeans. A bulge all the girls in Lemoore talked about when they thought you weren’t listening. There’s a curiosity burning in you, a need to know if he’s just as sweet in bed as he is when he’s picking you up or helping with dinner. Things have always been platonic - they needed to be, you wouldn’t have survived a childhood crushing on the bespectacled sweetheart who grew up to be an incredible man.

You know the risks, but the rewards are greater. Life is too short to not experience fucking Robert Floyd.

A kiss to his lips. A wink. “I’ve never wanted anything more.”

You sound like children giggling on the playground as you run down the hall to your bedroom, trying not to trip on the hall runner as he presses you against the wall to pepper you in scorching kisses. Breathy laughs as you explore this new part to your dynamic. Overwhelming lust mixed with lifelong companionship.

Once you make it to the bedroom - that supima bedspread underneath you, his hips cradled against yours - the innocent giggles dissipate as you take in the man above you. No longer the pink-cheeked child, the gawky teenager, Robby is nothing but height and strength and…broad? When did he get so broad? Naturally so meek and unassuming, the pure size of him is unexpected. But pinning you to the bed with those veiny hands and strong thighs, a collision of attraction overwhelms you.

There’s nothing delicate about the way he grinds his hips into yours, whimpers leaving both your lips. Your panties are soaked, he’s stretching the front of his jeans. Desperation fills the space between you.

His lips wander from your jaw, your neck, the space behind your ear, all the way to your passion-swollen lips. His voice is unsure, but hopeful, as he whispers against them, “Can I go down on you?”

Your eyes bloom wide - not only because you’d like nothing more, but you’ve remembered something from years ago. Something at the time you’d tried to forget. A night out with the Lemoore crew at that shoddy bar, everyone drunk after being out at sea for weeks, and you sat near the back waiting for Bob to come back with drinks. A small group of female aviators sat at the next table over, having clocked the shy WSO on his way to the bar. One had giggled, her friends shooting her a questioning glance. You’ll never forget when she replied, “I’d heard the rumors and didn’t believe them, but can confirm that Bob Floyd eats pussy like a starving man. Best hour of my life.”

As soon as he sees your slightly too eager nod, he’s working his way down your body, appreciating the feel of your dress and soft skin. Breath held as he officially breaches out of friend territory and lifts the hem, treating himself to the satin he can’t wait to pull aside. 

Lip worried between your teeth, a whimper is punched out of you when a hot mouth secures itself around your mound, thick tongue exploring the crevices of your covered folds. A finger slips itself along your entrance, bringing to attention the soaked material.

“Someone’s excited.” The lust-driven chuckle against your thigh has you shivering. “You want me to eat your sweet little pussy?”

He’s never used that voice on you, husky and mocking. You’re shaking with desire, for him to stop teasing and give you what you want. An hour ago he was just your friend, and now you’ve never felt so needy for a man’s touch. So far gone you don’t even notice the desperate nod you give him.

He presses another wet kiss to your clothed clit before wrapping his long fingers in the fabric. Prompting you to lift up slightly so he can have unimpeded access to this feast. Skimming his nose along your thighs, hot air directly on your slick cunt. The whimpers escaping you doing nothing but prolonging the teasing.

Bob can feel how you tremble, the way your fingers are smoothing over the bedspread in an effort to self-soothe. He’s satisfied that he’s gotten you as frustrated and ill-content as he’s felt for years. Needing something, not knowing if you’ll like it, but knowing that if you don’t have it you’ll never feel satisfied.

His fingers spread you out. Head dips. The lightest touch of his tongue to damp arousal.

Holy fuck. He does eat pussy like a starving man. Pushing his face in closer and closer, his tongue reaching for every inch of the promised land. His fingers wrapped around your thighs, pulling you in. Hot, wet muscle opening you up as he drools. 

Eyes unfocused, you’re in a new dimension and yet he’s enjoying it more. 

That deliciously fuzzy feeling starts to tingle in your stomach, pressure building between your thighs as your best friend helps himself. Blunt nails raking up and down your legs to ground you in the experience. The sharp edge of his metal frames occasionally snagging on the skin. They alone make you want to cry to the heavens. But it’s the way he’s sloppily forcing his tongue into your cunt, lewd noises ringing around the room, that has you clamping your lips shut to not wake all of San Diego.

He senses that you’re holding back, not giving him everything he wants. You’ve been best friends since day one, he knows when you not being authentic.

That delicious tongue withdraws from your thighs and you can feel his stare on you. Waiting patiently for you to make eye contact. The pussy drunk, yet concerned look he gives you as he nudges you. “It’s okay, it’s me. I’m never going to judge you.”

Blue eyes meet yours. The same blue eyes that have consistently seen you safely out the other side of any bad situation the two of you have faced. That always comes home from deployment so matter how much you worry. The same ones that you know will guide and protect you on this journey as well. He’s your best friend. No one else can keep you this safe.

After your nod, he dips his slick lips back to your core, his smile upon your skin. Quickly losing himself in your flavor as he nudges you back open. His own hips rocking against the mattress as you allow your bitten lips to part, moans and whimpers and sharp intakes of breath filling the air. Losing yourself in his over-and-above technique to bring you to the edge.

His own muted moans vibrate against your core. Dexterous tongue and calloused middle finger (followed quickly by another) sliding in and out with ease. It’s too much and not enough, overwhelming your senses and making your brain whirr. Skin slick with sweat as that fuzzy feeling in your stomach returns and your feet tingle. Your eyes gazing unfocused down at Robby, hopelessly turned on at his dedication to making you feel good.

“C’mon, be good for me.”

His muffled words stretch the string and bring you home, thighs clamping around his damp face as a scream escapes your throat. Fingers twisting in the bedspread. Back arching. The view has him slack jawed and starry eyed, fingers still pumping in and out to prolong your orgasm. A slight tilt of his lips into a smile at how content you are when he finally catches your gaze through labored breaths.

Your brain slowly comes back to you, thoughts racing through sludge. Eyes fixed on cerulean as a smile stretches your lips. “Where the fuck did you learn to do that?”

He laughs, a surprised, carefree sound as he uses your thighs to help himself up the bed. Gives you a little wink as he grins, “It can get kind of boring on deployment.”

“Recon and intelligence protection missions are boring?”

“Yeah, when you’re not there to annoy me.” His dimples are out in full force, laughter twinkling out of every pore on his perfect face. You slug him a little, your orgasm still working its way through your body. The urge to roll over and sleep just as strong as the urge to shove him in your cunt through his jeans. 

You’ve had a taste and you need more.

He’s already one step ahead of you, shrugging the soft flannel and faded tshirt from his body. Gently cranes you in his arms as he helps unzip and lift your dress above your head. The garbled choking sound and intake of breath when he realizes you aren’t wearing a bra makes you proud. You’ve always thought Bob was attractive in an understated, sweet way. To know he’s attracted to you makes any doubt about this situation indefinitely fade.

Sitting in front of him, not a scrap of fabric on you, you feel good. He’s the best guy you know, the one you have always sung his praises because there’s literally no one better. The only difference between a friendship and a relationship is sex. That’s all that’s been missing.

It’s time to take the plunge.

You swallow his lips with yours, fingers twisting in his sun-lightened hair. His arms wrapping around you, holding you secure to him. Both of you gasping at the feeling of your bare torsos touching. It’s electric. It’s satisfying. It’s grounding.

Hands quick to unzip his jeans, laughing as he tries to help only for you to bat him away. “You got to undress me, I want to undress you.”

The groan he emits reverberates. You’re so sexy and it’s driving him crazy. There was his fleeting crush in high school, but this…this is beyond his wildest dreams. Allowing your soft fingers to dip below the waist of his boxers, shimmying the denim and cotton down his legs. Your lips struck open in awe at the heavy, hard, thick appendage resting against his thigh. 

“You tell me every secret you have, and yet you keep the python in your pants to yourself?” He laughs, a hand wrapping around the base as you flounder to mentally combine Robby, your meek best friend, with the red-tipped joyride protruding from his pelvis. 

He helps himself to a condom from the box in the nightstand - the one you jokingly said you’d never use when he watched you unpack. You’re almost worried it’s going to be too small, but he glides it on with ease before lowering you both onto the bed, biceps straining as he adjusts. Bob can feel your slick center against the bottom of his dick and it’s taking everything in him to not make himself at home.

As you prepare yourself for what’s about to be a hell of a stretch, he kisses the top of your breasts, skimming his nose against your soft skin. Even in this moment his main priority is making you comfortable and feel safe. “We can go slow, it’s okay.”

But where Bob is safe and secure, you’re adventurous, curious. You want to know what he feels like now. 

The wild fire of your eyes bores into his calm ocean blue. “Where’s the fun in that?”

A shift of hips and he’s slipping through, arousal and spit gently gliding the tip of him in. Your fingers twist in his hair, pulling on the Navy-approved length at the nape of his neck. A sharp tug that prompts a yelp as he drives his hips forward, slipping inch after inch into you. Your eyes rolling into the back of your head as you struggle to adjust. Fuck, he’s so big.

He’s kissing your temple, whispering how good you’re being for him. I know it hurts, you’re doing so well, almost there, baby. His thumb sliding between your bodies to rub pointed circles on your clit. He’s barely started and you’re already leaving your body, watching yourself be stuffed to the brim.

The neatly trimmed hairs of his pelvis poke along your clit and you’re proud of yourself for taking all of him. Nudging Bob softly to move because you’re uncomfortably full. Back arching into his strong chest as he explores parts of you that you didn’t know existed. 

In no time at all he’s thrusting with all his power, leaving you a moaning mess. Fingers clutching to any sweaty skin you can find, nails leaving their mark. He’s red-faced and huffing above you, eyes switching between your blissed out expression and the way your breasts sway with his heavy thrusts. This is heaven. This is everything. Why did he wait to say anything?

Suddenly you’re pawing at his chest, pushing him to roll over. “C’mon Floyd, let me rock your world now.”

He’s pretty sure you could blow him a kiss and rock his world, but he’s definitely not complaining about the view. The silhouette of you against the San Diego moon - big beaming smile and tight nipples. Wishes he had a camera to forever commemorate the first of many times you ask to ride him. A picture book of your perfect face all the way down to you split over his dick with different backgrounds.

From this angle it’s tight, but you’re not a quitter. Rocking your hips to loosen up, hands finding purchase on his chest. His big smile is back, eyes completely dilated while he can’t decide where to look. You’re seeing stars and he’s seeing diamonds. 

Once rhythm comes to you, you’re bouncing, loving the way he fills you to the hilt each time. His encouraging smile behind golden rims. You’re with someone who knows the real you, who encourages you to be your best self. And with his strong, veiny hands wrapped around your waist, helping along your movements, you know he’s…it.

It’s hard to tell where your moans end and his start, both of you polluting the air with inhales and groans mixed with the occasional squelch of sex. Your skin is shimmering, thighs begging for reprieve. You can’t get enough of the way he perfectly fills you every time. 

Sensing your exhaustion, he brings you closer, slotting his mouth over yours in a filthy, sloppy kiss. Starting to meet your thrusts as you inch closer and closer to your orgasm. Having to calm himself before he ruins your rhythm. The idea of you cumming on his cock has him dizzy. You rake your fingers through his hair one last time, eyes unable to meet as your lashes flutter, and he knows. You’re here, he’s gotten you to the edge.

That big hand on your lower back soothes as you clench for the final time, pulsing. You’ve officially left Earth, watching yourself convulse on top of Robby while he rocks himself up into you. “Good girl…yeah, that’s right…feels so good, huh?” 

Forget the best sex of your life, this orgasm can never be topped.

You’re half-heartedly pressing kisses to his forehead as he begin the descent to his own orgasm. Feet flat to the mattresses as he cants his hips up, desperate to drive every inch into you. The fluttering of your cunt the most amazing thing he’s ever felt, catapulting him over the edge quicker than any partner he’s had before. Shoving his face into your neck, licking at your salty skin, he knows his release is inevitable.

“C’mon Robby, cum for me.”

All reason leaves him and he bites down, lips securing over the delicate slope of your neck. A while light flashes behind his eyes and he’s filling up the condom, squeezing out every ounce of release. He suckles the skin, soothing himself as his spent body blinks back to life. Smiles sheepishly when he meets your eyes, as you smile at him sweetly.

Words don’t exist as you hold each other under the covers, tracing skin and giggling when the other finds a ticklish spot. At some point he disposes of the condom, but you’re still not fully there. Everything is good and special and you want to live in this moment forever.

When Bob strolls into the Hard Deck Saturday night, one arm looped around your waist, everything was right in his world.

His colleagues and friends sat in the back near the pool table, sipping beers and winning a game against another squadron. The two of you stroll up, looking decidedly more friendly than they’ve ever seen. Especially when Bob won’t let go of your waist and you keep touching him. 

You can’t help it. You’ve gotten a taste and now you’re insatiable.

The group takes in their WSO, standing a little taller than usual with his uncontrollable grin. And then they take in you, beaming, all smiles, looking right at home by Bob’s side in your tight jeans and cute little top. A cute little top that perfectly shows off the dark purpling mark mottling on your collar - teeth marks still visible in the right light.

While Robby confirms your drink order, there is stunned silence from the other half of the pool table. Mouths agape, a gleam of pride in Jake’s eye. Phoenix picks herself up first, eyes blinking rapidly at the sudden realization of last night’s events. Clocks that you went out with Rooster, yet went home with Floyd. 

“So, uh, what happened there?” She gestures to the obvious love bite. One that definitely wasn’t there when the group saw you last.

You bite your lip and look at your lifelong best friend. The guy who showed you his love last night…and then several more times this morning. His crinkled eyes drift from yours to the spot where he bit down as he came for you for the first time.

Turning to look at his squadron, he plays it cool and  shrugs, mumbling through his blush, “Can’t blame me for making sure no one else plays with my toys.”

taglist: @berryvanille @bobgasm @bradshawsbaby @cosmoeticss @creatchie8 @hangmanapologist @jessicab1991 @just-in-case-iloveyou @maryelizabeth13 @mtnzen @petersunderoos96 @rhettsluvr @roosterforme @seitmai @sweetwhispersofchaos @topherwrites @yuckosworld

join the taglist

[lynzishell]

The Past 💛 Atlas

I was over an hour late for the gym tonight, spending the better part of the day in bed staring at the ceiling, and occasionally typing out an apology text to Ash that I would immediately delete.

I had hoped that everyone else would be gone by the time I arrived, but Dawn and Phoenix were still lingering by the climbing machines when I walked in, so I tried (and failed) to avoid them by sneaking up the stairs to the treadmills. Dawn caught up with me before I even reached the first step and knew immediately something was wrong. She insisted on waiting around for me so we could walk home together.

I was annoyed at first, wanting to be alone, but by the time we’re throwing on our sweaters and beanies, I’m glad. Afterall, I’m getting nowhere on my own, just spinning myself in circles. Talking to Dawn is one of those things I avoid until I can’t, and then always wish I’d done sooner.  

“So, what’s wrong?” Dawn asks as soon as we step outside. It’s dark out, making it feel much later than it is, and I can already feel the weight of the season settling in. Winter is always the hardest for me, and Spring is still so far away.

I’m not sure where to start so I just blurt out, “I screwed things up with Asher yesterday.”

“What happened?”

“Apparently, he’s tired of my mixed signals.”

“Have you been giving mixed signals?”

I give her a guilty look as I nod solemnly.

“What haven’t you told me?”

Everything. But it’s too much to get into, and the details aren’t important, and she knows me well enough that I'm sure she can fill in the blanks, so I tell her, “It doesn’t matter,” to which she gives me an annoyed look but let's me continue, “But he got pissed and stormed out. I can’t blame him. I don’t know what my problem is.”

“Do you want my honest opinion?”

“Please.”

“Have you ever heard the quote, ‘A person often meets his destiny on the road he took to avoid it’?”

“Yeah. What about it?”

“I get that you’re tired of losing people. And I know that causes you to keep most people at arm’s length. It may feel like you’re protecting yourself, but you’re not. You will continue to lose people if you keep pushing them away.”

“Maybe. But it will hurt less if they leave without getting too close.”

“That’s not true and you know it.”

“Do I?” It feels true.

“Did it hurt when Asher stormed out yesterday?”

Point taken. “Like I was being ripped apart.”

“So, why are pushing him away? You’re only causing the pain you’re trying to avoid.”

“I don’t want to. Not anymore. But it’s like, I don’t know how not to. I can’t explain it. Just, the idea of taking that step, I feel like it won’t take long for him to see that I’m not who he thinks I am, that he’ll realize I’m not someone he can…” My voice trails off, unable to finish the sentence.

“Love?”

The mere mention of the word causes my chest to tighten. I feel my mind wanting to shrug off the very idea of it. So impossible that I feel silly even considering it.

“Oh Atlas. It’s not true,” she insists. “That was the kind of shit mom and dad put in our heads. And I get it, I felt like that too for a long time. I just handled it differently. I chased love as if someone else could come in and take that feeling away. But that just made me toxic and clingy and insufferable. It was my own version of pushing people away. And every time they left it felt like proof that I was right, that I wasn’t worth loving. But it wasn’t true, was it?”

“No.”

“It’s not true for you either.”

I understand what she’s saying, and logically I know she’s right, but there’s a part of me deep down that rejects it.

When I try to continue walking, she stops me, placing a hand over my heart, “I love you, Atlas. And not just because you’re my brother. Because you are caring and kind and gentle and loyal and supportive and I could go on forever. Not only are you worthy of love, but it is impossible not to love you.”

I don’t know what to say to that. It’s the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to me, and I can tell from the look on her face that she’s sincere. “Thank you.” I reach out and give her the biggest hug I ever have. She’s surprised at first, but hugs me back, squeezing me tight. I don't think either of us realized how much I needed to hear those words. We don't say them often, it doesn't come naturally to either of us, it's usually just implied in the ways we support each other, but maybe we should be saying the words more often. "I love you too."

“So, what am I supposed to do?” I ask as we step apart and start walking again. 

“Do you want to be with him?”

“Yes.”

“Then go talk to him. And be honest.”

“What if it’s too late?”

“Then I’ll be here for you. But there’s only one way to find out.”

Prev // Deja vu // Next

[aristotto]

(I shall post everything I have not posted here before but deleted from Twitter)

First of hello, hi TUMBLR!!! This is my MD OC. Her name is Ari. Ahhhh a lot of info in the picture too.

(Her eyes are periwinkle by the way (more blue than purple) it may look strange on some screens. On my phone they look pink lol.)

(Before you ask-- Yes I speak french— Spanish and English too, currently learning mandarin. I got the languages autism i guess. —I went to high school in Rhône-Alpes. Studied theatre. I keep everything in english though, I know it's a more common and comfortable language)

Now... Lore.

Ari and her family (mom, dad, little brother) used to live in a small colony about 7-8 hours by foot from the next closest colony, where Uzi and the other members of the cast live in Copper-9. Her father (who I still have to name, but so far in the story he has only been called "Papa" by his daughter, and "Ash" by someone who doesn't even know him) definitely has something wrong with him, with his programming. He is a pathological liar and is quite paranoid, thinking anything can be held against him. This is why after a commercial dispute with a colleague, he decided to leave everything behind and take his whole family with him to another colony.

Oh yeah, here, have some music in the meantime (a friend told me it reminded her of Ari, so I'll leave it here):

I quote one of my writings:

"The family was ambushed as they moved from their previous colony to this one. It was quite the risky move, if I do say so myself. I think Ash is his name? The father. Both his wife and youngest child were killed.

As for his firstborn...

She's damaged.

She played dead. Her voice box was mangled, and even though it was repaired... It seems she doesn't want to speak anymore. Her program must have gotten corrupted. After all she was pretty beaten up, she couldn't even walk by herself that day.

She's a weird one, but she has proven herself to be very useful. Good at sewing apparently, and she's done some mechanical fixes here and there.

Good for her"

Her father is a clockmaker, her mother was a dressmaker. She learnt from both, but she is not an expert in either.

After the incident her father insisted in taking care of her by himself. He knew better, apparently. However... It did seem every fix was temporary, as her knees would stop working again in a matter of hours. Something wasn't right.

Her father is obsessed with control and being called a hero, being called a fighter and a loving father. He wants Ari to depend solely on him, this is why, unbeknownst to his daughter, he has been inflicting her these wounds. Salt water accelerates oxidation, and hidden in a can of antioxidant, the child wouldn't know.

This is when she comes back to school. She doesn't speak to anyone, but other kids seem curious about "the girl with wheels".

One kid in specific was kind enough to say hello one day.

(I am really bad at drawing, but you get the idea).

Doll gave her the bell she uses to communicate.

"You're not broken, you're not incomplete".

These are words Ari would never forget.

They used to be friends. Not close, just occasionally spending time together. As they became older they also grew apart. Doll joined the cheerleader team, made new friends, became more social. And Ari could walk by herself and didn't really need help pushing her wheelchair anymore. They both became their own people.

Ari never stopped thinking about her friend. She had a crush on her but she kept denying her own feelings. How could she? She must've only been confused.

Besides, she would have sworn Doll forgot about her.

She didn't though.

After Doll's parents passed, Ari got her wake up call to start working on mechanics. Despite the pain on her knees, she started sneaking out every now and then to pick up drone scrap parts. She dressed on her father's coat and covered her face, but the rumors started anyways. A limping figure carrying a heavy bag through the halls at night... "The Collector". Beware or it might take your limbs too!

Ari was determined to help reassemble worker drones in hopes of one day helping Doll with her parents, too. What she didn't know was how to recover the cores, so she never really succeeded in bringing anyone back.

She was one day approached by Doll, which surprised her, because she wanted help fixing her prom dress. This day while measuring her she finally realized she felt something more than friendship towards her, but she ever spoke about it.

She never did until it was too late.

Picture this after the events of episode 5, before Doll left the colony. (Forgive my badly done comic layouts)

She broke silence but... also broke her voice box again because well, she screamed, and she hadn't said a word in years.

Last resource... Throwing the bell at her.

Of course that love was not reciprocated.

"Save your tears. We'll talk when I come back, this is not a battle I can run from."

She did not come back.

Ever since the end of the events of the show, Ari has been trying to bring back Doll. A new body, yes, but she wants her to be alright again even if her love is not reciprocated. She doesn't care about that. She just thinks she didn't deserve to die.

I'll end part 1 here.

There's a lot more to go, and very little space for images.

Thank you

[lonesome-witching]

Blushing

This was an anonymous prompt asking for quote 8 of this post. Which if I counted correctly should be "Are you blushing? That's adorable."

Do you have any prompts yourself? Or do you want to dive into what I wrote before? You can read my previous prompts or send me some new ones.

Whatever was going between her and Robin, Nancy liked it. She wasn’t sure she should. It felt taboo. It felt dangerous to admit it, even just to herself, how badly she wanted Robin to touch her. But it didn’t feel wrong. Not in the slightest. It felt like the happily ever after from the fairytales her mom used to read to her before bed.

And that was exactly where they were right now. Before bed. Still dressed in their day clothes. Layers upon layers to protect against the wind. Robin had already discarded some of those layers. Her sweater was laying on the edge of Nancy’s bed. It should bother her. It would have bothered her if it had been anyone else. It would have bothered her if it had happened a few weeks ago. It didn’t bother her now.

“Do you think your mom knows something?” Robin asked as she pulled her shirt over her head.

“What?” It wasn’t like they were actually together. They hadn’t kissed or anything. They just held each other at night, and they spent all their time together, and occasionally Nancy had a less than appropriate dream. But it wasn’t anything serious. It wasn’t anything defined. There were no labels or promises.

“She kept asking if I wouldn’t be more comfortable on the pull-out couch in the basement.”

Nancy’s eyes were stuck on Robin’s bare back. She wasn’t wearing a bra. It almost seemed like she never wore a bra. Nancy wouldn’t mind if it didn’t cause her face to heat up each time.

“She’s just trying to make sure you are comfortable.” She tried to look away. She couldn’t. Not until Robin had pulled her pajama shirt on again and turned around.

“Are you blushing?” Robin asked with a smile in her voice. “That’s adorable.”

“I’m not blushing. You’re being crazy,” Nancy laughed.

“Oh? Am I?” Robin started walking over. “Looks a little pink to me.” She poked Nancy’s cheek.

Nancy swatted her hand away. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“Aww, come here.” Robin put her arms around Nancy’s waist, pulling her into a hug. Nancy sighed softly, as she held onto Robin, burying her face into the crook of her neck. She loved when Robin held her like this. “You were totally blushing.”

“You were not wearing a bra,” Nancy whispered. She hoped Robin hadn’t heard her, but from the way her hand stilled on Nancy’s back and her shoulders tensed, she suspected she had.

“Were you looking, Nance?” Robin pulled away slowly.

“You’re the one who started undressing knowing I was here.”

Robin was smiling. “I guess I didn’t expect you to be the type to… stare.”

“We should go to bed.” Nancy walked past Robin, toying with her sheets.

“You’re still wearing your sweater and jeans.”

Nancy looked down at herself. “Just… give me a moment.” She grabbed her pajamas and rushed to the bathroom. She splashed some water on her face, trying to cool down. The faster she was done with this, the sooner she could rest in Robin’s arm. Blur the lines a little bit more. It couldn’t do more harm than it already did.

She took of her shirt, only noticing her scars for a moment before she covered them up again. She hated the sight of them.

She hated being alone. It’s why she was rushing to get back to Robin. That was the only reason why. It definitely had nothing to do with Robin’s slightly rough hands. She left the bathroom door open as she returned to her room.

Robin was already laying on the bed, her clothes now neatly folded next to her bag. Nancy knew she did it for her sake. Robin’s own room was a mess. She almost started blushing all over again.

“Ready for bed?” Nancy asked, dropping her clothes on the floor without a care in the world. Let them be messy. She hoped they were. She crawled into bed with Robin.

“Yeah, all set.” Robin was looking at her. At her bare legs under her shorts.

“Are you blushing? That’s adorable.” And with an unfounded confidence, Nancy leaned in to press her lips against Robin’s slightly pink cheek. Before she had the chance to apologize, Robin had put her arms around her, cuddling up to her.

“Of course I’m blushing. I’m in bed with Nancy Wheeler, prettiest girl of Hawkins, Indiana.”

Nancy giggled. “Are you implying something?”

“Me? I don’t think I am. I’m bad with social cues and all that.”

“You’ve told me before.”

“In the library.”

Nancy nodded. “I haven’t forgotten.”

“You don’t seem like the type to forget.”

She could feel Robin’s breathing on her neck. She wanted to cross the line once and for all. She hated that there even was a line.

Robin pushed herself up. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine.”

“You went quiet on me. I got scared.”

“I was just thinking.”

“What about?”

“You.”

Robin chuckled. “What could you possibly be thinking of that has to do with me?”

Nancy swallowed away the lump in her throat. “About how I kind of want to kiss you.”

“What?”

“Nothing. Forget I said anything.”

“I don’t want to. I don’t think I’d be able to.”

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“You didn’t.”

“But I said I wanted to kiss you.”

“You did. And… I want you to kiss me.”

Nancy pulled Robin down and connected their lips. She could feel her cheeks heating up as Robin’s lips moved against her own.

[miguelswifey04]

I just had a silly thought, imagine if Peter says the most whitest shit next to Miguel, and he just does a slow head turn to Peter “What…?”

LMFAO poor peter b 😭

gn! reader x miguel o’hara and peter b. parker

as peter’s words left his mouth, the room fell into a momentary silence. you and miguel exchanged a perplexed glance, your eyes meeting in perfect unison. slowly, you both turned your heads toward peter, eyebrows raised and expressions displaying a mix of confusion and disbelief. miguel was the first to break the silence, his voice carrying a hint of sarcasm. "seriously, dude? did you just say that?" he asked, his tone incredulous.

you couldn't help but giggle at the absurdity of peter’s comment. you joined in, adding, "peter, are you aware of how 'white' that sounded? we didn't peg you for such a cringeworthy statement." peter's face reddened as he realized the nature of his comment. he scratched the back of his head sheepishly, his embarrassment taking over. "uh, guys,i…i didn't mean it like that. it slipped out, you know?" he mumbled, stumbling over his words.

miguel chuckled, his amusement clear. "no worries, peter. we know you didn't mean any harm. we just couldn't help but react to the unexpected 'whiteness,'" he said, air-quoting the word. you nodded in agreement, your laughter subsiding. "yeah, it's all good. we know you're a great guy, despite your occasional bouts of 'whiteness'," you teased, giving peter a playful nudge.

peter joined in the laughter, his previous embarrassment fading away. "okay, okay, i’ll try to keep my 'whiteness' in check," he admitted, grinning at both of you. "but hey, it's what makes us unique, right?" you and miguel exchanged smiles, appreciating the lightheartedness of the moment. it was moments like these that reminded you of the diverse personalities and perspectives that made your friendship so special. and even when peter unintentionally said something that seemed out of place, it only served to deepen the bond between the three of you, creating memories filled with laughter and understanding.

tags 🏷️!! @kairiscorner @astro1bloom @emiemiemiii @meeom @obi-mom-kenobi @sabcandoit

[tf2thoughtdump]

TF2 Thought of the Day

Headcanon? No.

Character(s)? Miss Pauling, most of the mercs.

Long or Short? Long in short snippets.

Not really a thought, more of just some things for you to use.

You're free to use any thoughts of mine in any form of media you make.

Thought

So, I have SFM and in my workshop sounds, I have Miss Pauling’s calls to the mercs for contracts. Here are my findings, with quotes.

Miss Pauling has contact with Demo’s mother and possibly makes occasional calls to her. (“Hey Demo, I was on the phone with your mom, she said you didn’t have enough jobs so I got you an extra one. I won’t lie, she sounded angry..”)

She occasionally calls Engineer to help fix her moped. And to help get rid of bodies. (“Engie, it’s Pauling. My mopeds making a funny noise, like a *chhk chhk chhk chhk grrrr chk chk* sorta.. thing?” “Hey Engie, you got anything in your warehouse that could liquify abouut, hold on…. let’s call it eighty bodies? My triple-shredder’s backed up. Anyway, think about it, I’ve got a job.”)

Miss Pauling is very much preschool teacher like with Pyro. (“Hey buddy! It’s Pauling!” “Hi, Pyro! I’ve got something I need you to do, okay buddy?” “Hey Pyro, you wanna do a real big favor for Miss Pauling?”)

She is SO done with Scout. (“Scout, Pauling here. Wrap up whatever you were bragging about and look at this.” “Scout, it’s Pauling. I’m assuming you’re talking right now, please stop..” “Hey, Scout. First, no to whatever you were about to ask.” “Engie, it’s Pauling. Is Scout there? Cough if he’s there. I’ve got a job for you, NOT him.”)

Miss Pauling called Sniper for a rare contract and caught him peeing in a jar.

She plays into Soldier’s over-military personality and his odd imagination. (“Soldier I need you and Pepper-Pot-Pete, and Salty-Pete, and Pete-Pepper-Pants.. hell, all your cardboard friends for this one.” “Soldier, you know who doesn’t want you to take this job? Hippies! Communists! Tom Jones! Show them, Soldier. Show them all.”)

Miss Pauling may have helped Spy get a DNA test to find out of Scout was his son or not. (“Hey Spy, Pauling. I took care of that DNA test for you. […]”) She’s also been close enough to him physically to smell his ski mask. (“Spy, just between you and me? You should really wash that ski mask. Like, once. There’s visible stink lines coming off that thing. Anyway, I need a favor.”)

[toxicanonymity]

Newest instalment of Stepdad Joel was chefs kiss. But everyone already knew that! I’m in love with how he just can’t help himself. My man is insatiable. Toxic, would you be so kind as to bless us plebs with a lil Stepdad Joel behind the scenes lore? I have personally always wondered what the first time dear reader and he met was like? First impressions maybe?

Much love 🫶💗🐝

Thank you so much! 💗🫶💗 You are apparently the toxic lore whisperer. When you ask for lore, I crack my fingers. . .

700 words?? CW provocative album art. TW mommy issues but not much detail

stepdad master

-----

LORE: first meeting stepdad!Joel

His first impressions: Moody but harmless teenager.

Yours: Old but harmless nerd, trying too hard.

The first time you met, your mom was acting like they weren't dating, he was just, her friend Joel. You were late to lunch and she criticized your parking job.

"Are you gonna introduce me to all your 'friends' now?" You asked with air quotes right in front of Joel outside the cafe. 

Your mom apologized for you. Joel smiled and looked down at the ground and when his eyes found your vintage sneakers he said, "hey, fresh kicks." You cringed at him trying to sound cool but it was also disarming how lame he was making himself.  He was old (ish, but not as old as your mom), he was a nerd, he was a fool for liking your mom so much, and he did genuinely like her. Even before getting to know him, you felt a little bad for him because it would only be a matter of time until she couldn't keep up her fake niceness. 

Gradually you got to be buddies with him. One of the first times you spent time with him was at a food truck thing the three of you went to, and your Mom went off to "say hi" to a neighbor for thirty minutes. The two of you were sitting at the picnic table making small talk.  Joel was wearing an MCR shirt. He was surprised you knew who they were.  He liked a variety of cool bands, liked cool movies. He felt bad when your mom was hard on you and he stuck up for you. You kind of stuck up for each other. You almost tried to vaguely warn him when they started talking about marriage which seemed really fast, like within six months. 

-----

One day, after they were married, you and your mom had a huge blow-up and Joel came to your room bc at her request, he told her he'd try to talk to you for her. But he didn't. He just sat on the floor and looked around trying not to bother you. You kept your earbuds in and ignored him. 

He found your Rolling Stones Sticky Fingers vinyl and picked it up. He turned it over to read. He said "nice, where's your record player?"  You didn't have one at that point. That was your dad's, and you used to use his player. You hung onto that album but not for the music.

You finally took out your earbuds, feeling bad for him talking to himself.

Joel said, "my favorite Stones album is Some Girls."

"That's such a cliche," you grumbled without really looking at him, but the fact that you even said anything was a compliment. 

He asked, "Yeah, what's yours?"

You paused, then sheepishly admitted, "Some girls," and you both laughed.

------

You didn't live with them for long before you left for college, which was shortly after you caught him jacking off in the office that time, which neither of you ever acknowledged.

In college you started partying and dressing provocatively.  He followed you on Instagram your junior or senior year. At one point he accidentally liked then unliked a pic that was mostly cleavage. It made your heart skip a beat, and not in a creeped out way. But you didn't think much of it at the time, you had too much else going on in the boy world already.

You never lived at home again after leaving for college, but when you occasionally came home to visit, there started to be a different tension. It was like he was trying not to look at you. It wasn't that creepy -- You were both human and he wasn't "stepdad" long enough to ever feel like a father figure.  But there was tension, and occasionally you bickered over dumb stuff.

----

After graduation, you got a job and moved across town. Over time, there were a couple of guys you dated long enough to introduce them to Joel at family events.  He was polite but quiet with the first one.  The last one, you seemed to really like, and Joel was kind of cold with him. After you and that guy broke up, you started getting the urge to see Joel more often, which ultimately led to the time you went by when your Mom wasn't home and knowingly caught him jacking off.

Joel never would have made a move on you, so thank god for your advances. Even after following your instagram, he tried (and failed) not to look at you.

[xxsquiddkiddxx]

Leo Valdez x Reader Headcanons

A/N: This has been in my drafts now for MONTHS... I gotta start posting these more often and stop constantly posting Saw XDDD

Pronouns for reader: They/Them (gender-neutral)

Relationship type: Platonic

General Idea: I never see any HCs where the reader and Leo are just bros. So I'm gonna do the world a favor.

Content Warnings: Just two goofy goobers being goofy goobers together :)

Leo and (Y/N) met through the Wilderness School.

Neither of them really remember what sparked a conversation between the two of them, but soon they became attatched at the hip.

Even when Coach Hedge or another instructor split them apart, they'd instantly go back to each other. Kinda like they were magnets. So instructors gave up trying to separate them.

(Y/N) also completely indorses Leo's joking habits and even partakes in some of the pranks and tomfoolery.

They also both went to Camp Half-Blood together.

(Y/N) wasn't one of the seven, but they did help Leo build the Argo II (and by helping, I mean occasionally handing Leo tools he needed... but mostly just keeping the boy company).

Leo, during this time, also opened up about his mom and what happened with her, the foster system, and all the underlying worries he had.

(Y/N), being Leo's closest friend, comforted him through the whole thing. Listening to every word.

In return, Leo also listened to whatever issues (Y/N) had in their past. [If you don't have any past issues/trauma, then just imagine current issues]

After the whole Prophacy of Seven was over and (Y/N) got the news that Leo wasn't coming back. They became angry at Leo for dying, but never replaced him in their heart. In their mind, Leo was their best friend. You couldn't just... REPLACE Leo.

When Leo got back? When I tell you that (Y/N) chewed out Leo so hard that it made Ares seem like a big softy? I truly mean it.

The whole scolding lasted over 4 hours. It made Annabeth seem like the most lenient camper of all time.

Afterwords, however. It was back to the usual duo's shenanigans.

Once again, they were attatched at the hip.

Movie nights galore! So many! I'm 100% convinced that Leo would've been a FNAF kid if his timeline would've allowed it. So y'all would definitely watch the FNAF movie, Breakfast Club, Nacho Libre, so many epic movies.

Y'all would also quote them, too. All. The. Time. Sometimes, you two would just bounce movie quotes off of each other for a solid 15 minutes (fun fact: this is called echolalia, it's a form of stimming that some ADHD people can expirence)

I feel like the two of them would try to take a few random classes that Camp had to offer, just to try something new... but ditch it a few days later.

If Leo tries something... (Y/N) also does to. Every job is a two person job with those two. Even if it's something as simple as lunch. If they can do it together, they 100% will.

They'd definitely have a little book with all the stupid shit they'd say. Like their own little quote book.

Leo is definelty a LEGO guy, and the two of them would definitely have LEGO nights. Like the LEGO death star? They built it in 5 hours. They will sometimes get so focused on their project that they'll look out the window and the sun is already out... they started at 8pm...

Y/N would definitely try to teach Leo some activities surrounding their godly parent. And Leo would do likewise. Of course, the two of you both suck at the other's activities. But it's fun so who cares?

I feel like they call eachother the most stupid crap sometimes, each more ridiculous than the next. JUST to confuse people.

Like: "Hello damp kitchen towel!" "Oh hey dehydrated eggplant, what's up?"

Definitely shares music with each other. Half of the music he listens to now? That's (Y/N)'s doing. And likewise for them.

[project-sekai-facts]

emurui arc ender (shocked face)

do you have everything about all of their parents? i for some reason can’t find anything about ichika’s mom, rui’s dad or emu’s mother (i may be blind, pretty sure emu’s mother was mentioned and ichika’s mom was aswell. i know she was mentioned in ichika’s introduction but i haven’t seen her in story yet)

The parents who don’t have physical appearances are generally less important and rarely show up or are mentioned (with a few exceptions) but we do learn some things about them from card stories and such. Here’s some stuff I can remember about the faceless/nameless parents

Ichika’s parents met because they liked the same song. It’s where her name comes from.

also her dad reads manga

We don’t know much about her mother. she's nice though.

Saki and Tsukasa’s mother is a piano teacher. Considering that she’s friends with Harumichi, she probably used to play professionally

We don’t know much about their father, but he has a tendency to spoil Saki (mentioned in Tenma Hinamatsuri)

Honami’s mother is a beautician (mentioned in an area conversation iirc) and her father is a hairstylist (mentioned in Petit SEKAI Episode 6)

Shiho and Shizuku’s mother is a koto instructor and their father used to be a guitarist in a band

We don’t know much about Minori’s parents but they show up in STEP by STEP!. They initially had concerns about her switching courses and being a full-time idol, but after seeing that Minori was prepared and determined to be an idol they let her go ahead

We don't know a huge amount about Haruka and Airi's parents either. Similar to Minori, we know they are nice parents and supportive of their idol careers and that's about it.

Haruka's mother is a nail artist. She was worried about Haruka when she was younger because she rarely smiled.

Kohane's dad is a photographer. He's also the one who bought Count Pearl.

According to Kohane, he has a penchant for coming up with weird names

An mentions in MEIKO's 1* card story that her mother, Yuka, is not a good cook.

I think it's stated somewhere that Yuka is a teacher but don't quote me on that

Akito and Ena's mother makes them eat their carrots because she thinks they should at least try to eat the things they don't like.

She's pretty laid-back and thinks her kids should be able to do whatever they want to do. She's meant to be the polar opposite of Mrs Asahina.

In Ena's fes card it's revealed that she kept some of the old art that Ena threw away in case she ever regretted it

Toya's mother used to bake him cookies a lot and that's why he likes them

She was also very overprotective of him when he was younger and basically wouldn't let him do any recreational games or activities in case he injured himself and couldn't play piano.

She taught Toya to play the violin. I'm assuming that she used to play professionally and that's how she met Harumichi.

We don't really know anything about Emu's mother iirc. She's mentioned occasionally but I don't remember her ever appearing off the top of my head. In Smile of Dreamer it's mentioned that she's abroad doing volunteer work in Cambodia.

Nene and Rui's mothers are good friends due to being neighbours. Nene even used to call Rui's mother "auntie" when they were younger. Her mother recorded a lot of her performances from when she was little.

Beyond that we don't really know anything. I don't remember Nene's dad ever appearing but he is mentioned.

Rui's mother is a biologist, as mentioned in Revival my dream. I have a theory that she mainly works in entomology (study of bugs), or maybe more specifically lepidopterology (study of moths and butterflies), because Rui talks a lot about a moth at one point and has books on butterflies in that event. He talks about some other bugs as well.

His dad is a robotics engineer, also mentioned in Revival my dream. He doesn't actually appear though.

Rui's mother had a very similar background to Rui. She was often called weird and eccentric because of her interest in biology and didn't have any friends until meeting Rui's father, who was really into robotics.

We don't know a huge amount about Mafuyu's father. He does push her to achieve as much as her mother does, but he seems to have limits.

We don't know a lot about Mizuki's parents either, but they are very supportive of them and were worried when they started skipping school

[cyniibar]

Does anyone have that feminine urge to become a mom right now? Just me? Okay.

I'm specifically just obsessed over the idea of being pregnant. It's so blucking beautiful and heavenly. Like, imagine— donned in a breezy silk gown, swinging on a swing, your baby bump's baby bumping. Soaking up all the radiance and positive energy of your surroundings as if you're becoming one with mother nature. Going: "Haha, I love my life." OR, strolling around a city mall, shopping bags in hand, window shopping around for adorable baby items while you're clothed in designer head to toe. Your stride is confident, healthy curls bouncing with each soft, clanking step of your pumps, lookin' all glamorous and beautiful with your pregnancy. Once in a while, people are congratulating you from left to right, and occasionally you utter a polite little 'teehee, thank you.' Very mindful, very demure, very cutesy. What a joy, to be a human pouch for your growing baby.

When I say it's not my time yet, IT'S REALLY NOT MY TIME YET. *Sigh*... still in my adolescence phase, gotta finish my education, and I'm sure as hell my frontal lobe hasn't developed yet. Sure it's kinda frowned upon when kids my age become parents. But still... I wanna get knocked up just for the beauty of pregnancy. It also doesn't help that babies are just so cute. Like, it's a mini you, uh more like a 50% creation. You probably can't love yourself, but that baby might give you a reason to start. "And little Po, that's the end of the story. Look at me! No, don't look at me." Which is stupidly, mind-bogglingly odd 'considering the fact that I hate men so bad to the point my pessimistic attitude towards them verge me to go lesbian.' Actually, quote me on that. -cyniibar 2024

So anyways! *play peaceful Italian music in the background* gonna be me:

[bloodyquillink-blog]

hi i’m not sure if your taking requests, but if you are can you do a logan walker x reader where the reader and logan were engaged before logan got taken by rorke, and when he gets saved he’s a completely different person and is closed off and even more quiet, but when one of rorkes members send a message to the ghosts team saying they want to take the reader now aswell, logan gets super protective and opens up to her about eveything that happened? if not totally ok!! thank you so much!!

A/N: I am and thank you for being my first tumblr request! I hope I’ve done you justice with this.

Warnings: Big angst, hurt/comfort, descriptions of injuries and torture methods (if I missed anything please let me know)

Word Count: 4.4K

To Be Changed, Logan Walker x Reader

Your marriage was so happy and perfect, even though the world wasn’t. Despite the fear of your whole wedding being destroyed before you and Logan even put on the rings and said your vows, that didn’t stop either of you. If you were going to die, you might as well die tied to one another, surrounded by the people you treasure most. Thankfully, that wasn’t the case. The wedding went without a hitch, ignoring the occasional pitches of anxiety that bubbled in everyone's stomachs. There was a beautiful mountain that overlooked a nearby beach, it felt like the clouds parted just for you two that day. The sun shone down on the white you and Logan wore. The red rose in his breast pocket, the artificial one you gave him when you went on your first date, was accentuated by the surrounding colors of blue water and green grass. 

Logan was usually fairly quiet, but that day when he said his vows, he spoke more than you did. He managed to avoid stuttering, though you could feel his hands shaking. You were so proud of him and each word from his lips warmed your heart. That alone let you know that this was the right decision, the only one. 

Before you cut the cake, he whispered to you, “I can’t find the words to describe how much stronger you make me feel.” You looked at him, confused and curious, before he continued. “I barely speak to my own family and brothers, maybe because I don’t need to… but you changed that. Now, I’m just droning on and on about whatever’s happening at the moment. Because of you. Hell, my mom barely heard me talk this much.” He wrapped his arms around you, cupping your hands that held the knife for the cake. “I bet she’s watching us now. She’d love you so much.” And with that, you both cut the first slice. 

A quote floated through your mind, “To be loved is to be changed.” and by God, did you change Logan.

That’s what made today so painful.

That’s why you sat on the floor in front of the front door to you and Logan’s home. That’s why David held you, holding the back of your head so you didn’t see him silently crying while you sobbed. You held Logan’s mask and dogtags close to your heart. Eventually, Keegan and Merrick had come out of the car they drove here. Keegan knelt down to rub your back, attempting to comfort you as best as he could. Merrick told you more than he, as a Captain, should tell any civilian. He’d made an exception for you. Seeing as he had a job to protect his best friend's children in the most dangerous job they could all have now, you joked that Logan and David were his adopted kids.

He never denied it. Because of that, you might as well have been his adopted kid, now in-law too. And as that in-law, it was his job to tell you that Logan was, for better or worse, not dead. You looked up at him with tears still falling. He explained what happened from the beginning. A man, a horrible man, named Rorke who was a former Ghost that the Federation destroyed and turned into something repulsive. David added that it was Rorke who had dragged Logan away on that beach. That fucking beach. He explained how it was his own fault for not doing more, for not saving him despite his injuries that, even now, two weeks after, he was still healing from.

You almost slapped him. You wanted to slap Merrick too. You were heartbroken and afraid and every negative emotion you could possibly feel nearly boiled over. You sat on the couch, the men around you as they tried to help you breathe. When you calmed down enough to speak coherently, you asked a simple question:

“Will we ever see him again? Alive?”

Merrick answered, as hopeful as he could be.

“We’ll do everything we can to make sure we will.”

That’s all you could really ask for. David moved and carefully dug into his front pocket before he pulled out his hand and offered something small and shiny. It was Logan’s ring. Both of your rings were made of titanium for its durability, Logan was worried about scratching or otherwise damaging it, so he chose titanium. Strong and durable. You had told him it reminded you of his personality, how he just kept going under all circumstances. You would’ve started crying again if this alone hadn’t already exhausted you. As much as you wanted to hold all of Logan’s things to try to feel like he was with you, you handed his mask and dog tags to Hesh. You knew where the mask came from. Who originally wore it.

“I think they’d want you to hold these.” you said, quiet as ever. David knew you weren’t just talking about Logan, but their father, Elias the “Scarecrow”, as well. He grabbed the mask and tags, putting the tags on and clutching the mask like a lifeline. As everyone stood up and walked to the door, you hugged David and whispered to him, your voice still shaking.

“It’s not your fault. I know he doesn’t blame you. I don’t either.”

“Thank you,” He paused, “I’ll do everything in my power to bring him back to you.”

You hugged Merrick and Keegan before they walked back to the car.

“Be safe!” You called out. A useless but well-intentioned farewell to the soldiers. They waved back before pulling out of the driveway, leaving you alone.

That night, you took Logan’s ring and put the chain of your favorite necklace, one he had given you before your marriage, through the ring and laid it around your neck. You cried, holding his cold pillow and wearing an old hoodie you’d stolen from his closet while he was gone. Your body ached with every sob.

Three months later, you began cleaning the house before the depression that kept you in your room most of the time got too bad. It helped a little, going through every nook and cranny. You even went into the attic. Any time either of you traversed into the usually dark storage, it would end with you holding the giant vacuum, claiming you saw a spider the size of your head while Logan chuckled. After a bit, he’d go up with a flashlight only to find some critter that got stuck up there because of a hole. Once he’d patched up the hole and cleaned out as much as he could, it all felt more comfortable.

As you looked through old boxes, you found pictures. The oldest going back to when you both first met. It was a charity for veterans in your old town where Logan, David and Elias were stationed. There were games you and your friends played, competing. At one point, Elias jokingly joined in which pulled David and, naturally, Logan. As the night went on, you and Logan got closer. He barely spoke but his chuckles at your comments were enough for you.

“I was so close to winning! You gotta give me credit for that!” You argued, cheeks hurting from smiling so much. You turned to see Logan looking at you, his brow raised and smirking.

“How? You’re 25 points behind me.” He remarked.

“I would’ve won if… if I had been playing with someone other than you!”

“Like who?”

“One of my friends, probably Ash!”

“You have 10 points.” Each time the tiny basketballs went in the hoop, it was 5 points. 

“Yes and I would be 10 points ahead of them which means I would win!” He practically wheezed at that as you giggled. You looked  over to see David and Elias staring at the both of you, wide smiles plastered on their faces.

You kept looking through the box. Finding photos from the day you met Keegan and Merrick, then the day you visited Mrs. Walker’s grave for the first time. You stared at that picture of Logan and David sitting together in front of the stone. It was so peaceful.

You held the photo to your chest and thought of Logan. You whispered to yourself, “Please, please protect him. Keep all of them safe. I just want them to be happy… Elias and Diane, please watch over all of them.”.

Another three months later, you hadn’t heard from David, Keegan, Merrick or any other military personnel. It had been a total of eleven months since you last saw your husband. You were Logan’s emergency contact and many people aside from the Ghosts knew you, so if something happened then someone would contact you. This should be comforting. No one calling you means no one’s dead, right? Nothing bad. So why were you so anxious? You couldn’t reach anyone so maybe something did happen and-

Your phone rang. It was David. You answered immediately.

“David? What happened? Where have you been?”

“Come outside, I have to show you something.”

It’d been a long time since you ran that fast. David sat in his truck, as you ran over to the passenger side, he leaned to open the door from his seat. As soon as your door closed and you buckled in, he began driving.

“David, what’s going on?”

He inhaled through his nose, you noticed how hard he was gripping the wheel and that he was going a bit fast. He was a careful driver normally. If he was amongst civilians, he was calm and never dared going above the speed limit in case there was a child or a dog or pedestrian walking when and where they shouldn’t be. This drive, however, was different. Something happened.

“We got him.” He looked at you, your eyes wide as they slowly filled with tears. “He’s back.”

“W-when did he get back?” You stuttered.

“Almost two weeks ago-” You opened your mouth to speak but David put his hand up. You waited. “Knowing Rorke and his history, we kept Logan on base to heal some and do some mental evaluations.”

“David…”

“I need to warn you right now, he’s not gonna be the same man you knew before all this shit happened. He’s gonna have a lot of recovering to do.”

David went on to explain Rorke and what the Federation did to him. You were quiet.

“Did he do all of that to Logan?”

“We aren’t sure. We just know that whatever it was wasn’t good. He’s clear to come home today if both of you are ready, but I just needed to tell you.” Good thing the house was clean.

“Thank you, David. I know this has probably been harder on you than anyone.” David tried to laugh.

“I mean it’s my job-” You put your hand on his shoulder.

��You know what I mean. Thank you. Seriously.” He exhaled slowly, he seemed to relax a little.

“You’re welcome.”

“You can come by whenever you like if Logan comes back. Maybe just give me a warning, ok?”

“I will. I promise.”

David parked the truck after you checked in at the front gate. Your heart beat rapidly despite the slow walk through the base. You recognized some of the men and gave a half-hearted wave when they greeted you. You could already tell. They knew why you were here.

You walked into the base hospital. David took you down numerous hallways you knew there was a chance you’d see one day but never expected, never wanted to walk down. But this was for Logan. David opened the door to the room you stood in front of.

You couldn’t tell if your heart was breaking or if you were having a heart attack or what…

There he was, sitting against the bed he must’ve been in since returning, looking at you.

Logan was in a hospital gown, his arms and legs below the knee exposed. The skin was covered in jagged scars and stitches that were still such a dark and aggressive red. Along with that were numerous bruises, a painful variety of purples, yellows, and green in some spots. His right arm in a cast and sling. On his other hand, his ring and finger are wrapped, probably broken or dislocated. You notice how his left shoulder and upper arm seem to be wrapped with gauze. You don’t want to imagine what injuries he must have that you can’t see.

His face. His handsome face. He looks so tired. Logan turned towards you and tried to limp over, using the bed for stability. You rushed forward instinctually. Once he was close enough, he slowly wrapped his unbroken arm around your back. You looked at him. He had dark circles under his eyes, faded bruising on his left cheekbone, two intersected scars ran across his face. One started between his eyebrows to his cheek. The second from the middle of his chin, across his lips until it passed the other scar on that same cheek. His skin was cool and pale, unlike the warm complexion he had prior to the kidnapping. 

You ended up staying for about two hours before you got a list of medications from doctors, some extra gauze wraps and a pamphlet detailing how to handle a deep second degree burn at home. That was why his shoulder and arm were wrapped. You said goodbye to David, Keegan and Merrick soon after.

The first few weeks, Logan mostly stayed in bed. Every day you checked his injuries, the stitches and the burn, to make sure there was no infection and they were healing properly. By the fourth week or so, the burn had healed, leaving behind a large patch of discolored skin. At nearly the sixth week, his cast was removed. His arm and fingers had healed well and correctly. David had told you that when Logan was taken, his arm was broken. When he was found, his arm had healed incorrectly as a result of improper care, assuming any care was given, so the doctors had to re-break it before putting it in the cast. 

After the seventh week, Logan was able to walk around without limping. However, he mostly just stayed in your room. Sometimes, you’d spend the day in the living room in hopes it would coax him out. It didn’t work. You cooked his favorite meals but he would usually bring the food back to the room. When it was time for bed, you essentially snuck around the room to avoid scaring him in case he was sleeping. You were pretty sure he wasn’t sleeping, at least not as much as he should’ve been. It remained this way for a few more weeks.

A month and a half into Logan being back home and he’d uttered a scarce amount of words. “Okay”, “alright”, “yes”, “no” and whatever else kept his sentences short. He barely talked to you anymore. Of course, you kept David updated as often as possible. You felt like he just wasn’t there. Now, he was more of a ghost than ever.

Two months in and he started going to the base again. For what? You don’t know. You had asked where he was going, dressed in his “soldier getup” as you called it.

“I’m going to work. Can’t be late. I’ll be back later.” He’d stated hastily before heading out. This continued on for another two weeks until you decided to talk to him before he left.

“Logan, honey, can we talk?”

“Um… sure, but I have to leave before 9.” He was trying to rush again.

“I wanted to ask about that actually…” He looked at you, mostly expressionless. “You were just gone for almost, what, six months? Why are they having you back at work when you might as well have just finished actually healing?”

“I… There’s still work to be done.” he stuttered. You cocked your head. You turned to him from your position on the couch.

“What work?” you asked slowly and quietly. You knew he wasn’t lying. You didn’t want him to think you thought he was lying. You wanted to keep the conversation calm so he wasn’t overwhelmed.

“It’s a lot. I don’t think- right now isn’t the right time.” he began to turn.

“We can talk later if that’s better, but I just want to know. I’m worried about you.”

“You don’t need to worry, I just need to do some things.” His voice carried no emotion. He was almost at the door when you stood suddenly.

“Logan, I just want to understand!” Logan stopped in his tracks. You stared at his back. “I want to just talk, please… I know your job is important and I don’t want to get in the way with complaining…” Your voice cracked. You wrapped your arms around yourself. Logan was here, in the same house as you. You stared at him but you felt lonelier than ever. “You’re so far away, Logan… and… and I know there was so much that happened and we didn’t know if we’d ever see each other again, but we’re together now!” You walked closer to him. He heard your steps but he stayed still. “We don’t have to act like nothing happened. We couldn’t if we wanted to, I know that… but please talk to me again. I married you because I love you. I married you and everything that came with you. I said those vows and ‘in sickness and in health’ because even when you’re hurting, I’ll be there. I’m here right now! But I need you to let me be there. I need you to stop hiding yourself away from me. I want to know you again, Logan.” Your breathing had picked up as tears welled up in your eyes.

Time just stopped. You turned and sat back on the couch facing away from him. You quietly wept into your hands as everything just seemed to spill over. You had reached your boiling point. You didn’t hear the footsteps coming to you until you opened your eyes and noticed the giant boots that faced your much smaller feet. A large pair of hands slowly removed your hands from your face, one tilted your head up.

You saw Logan’s beautiful eyes, a sort of hazel that seemed gold in the light. He slowly knelt down in front of you and hugged you. Not like the barely there hug he mustered at the hospital when he couldn’t even walk on his own. He pulled you tight against him and you immediately curled around him as you sobbed. He let you. Logan pulled back after a moment and held your face. He wiped your tears with his thumbs. 

“I love you too… more than anything.” He stared into your reddening, tear-filled eyes for a moment before sighing as he sat next to you. You held his hand, his thumb stroked your knuckles as he thought about his next words. “A couple days ago,” he started, “something happened. I can’t tell you what yet but it was cause for concern. Especially with Ghost team.” He paused and looked at you, directly into you. “I want to tell you everything, but it’s going to be a lot to process and it’ll probably be scary. I don’t want you to deal with this, with all the problems coming to us because of Rorke but you’re right to want to know what’s happening and you deserve to know.” You looked at the time, 8:55 A.M. You stood, Logan followed, still holding your hand. He pressed your hand against his chest and over his heart.

“I love you.” You whispered.

“I love you too. I’ll talk to Merrick today and I’ll try to get home as early as I can. We can talk about everything while we make dinner.”

“Together?”

“Together. I’ll call you if anything comes up and if you need me to, I can get groceries, ok?” You nodded. This is all you asked for. You hugged Logan tightly as he wrapped himself around you. You walked him to the door where he kissed you goodbye, on the lips. It felt like it had been forever since you’d done that. You stopped him before he moved. He almost retorted when you pulled off the necklace you still had on. He stared at the ring hanging from it. You took the ring off and put it back on his hand. He stared at it for a moment and smiled. A tired little smile that took so much weight off of you. Logan grabbed the necklace and took the time to put it back around your neck before he kissed you again.

“Thank you.” He whispered, still smiling. You smiled back as he walked to the car, waving when he began to drive. It had only been 10 minutes at most but those 10 minutes were so freeing. The rest of the morning you spent outside, reading and occasionally texting your friends when they checked in. The sun warmed your skin and the air was so fresh. You went back inside around 3 P.M when Logan called you:

Logan: “I can come back home around 6 tonight.”

You: “Sounds good, any ideas for dinner?”

Logan: “I could really go for lasagna.”

You: “Can you stop at the store on your way back? I have a list!”

Logan: “Yeah, just send it to me.”

With that, you texted everything you needed before moving to clean up the kitchen and free up space.

Later that night, Logan returned with everything you asked for plus a tub of ice cream. Your favorite flavor. You got to cooking, boiling the sheets and preparing the sauce while the oven preheated. You cooked together, like old times. It had been so long. Music quietly played as you both took turns tasting everything. A little extra salt and paprika here, with some pepper too. You laid down the floppy lasagna sheets while Logan poured the sauce over top then you both spread your favorite cheeses before adding more sheets and so on. While the lasagna was in the oven, you sat on the couch together. Logan held you in his arms as you stroked the hair on the back of his neck. After savoring the peace of the moment, Logan started talking.

When he was kidnapped, Rorke had put him through the same trials he himself had experienced. Being force fed poisoned food was the start until Rorke seemed to grow bored and eventually forced him to eat the plants the poison had been extracted from. Logan told you everything. All the grim details. At some points, you actually felt nauseous just hearing the horrors. When he was almost done talking about what he was forced to endure, you just held him and continued to encourage him to talk. He held you tight as he explained. The beatings he was put through. The way his arm healed wrong and he could hardly use it without feeling pain.

Then he looked at you. You felt so fragile with the way he looked at you with his tired eyes. He spoke again.

“Rorke knows about you.”

You never met this man in your life, never saw pictures. But he was like a boogeyman. He could appear from under your bed at any moment. 

“His soldiers… left us a message… Threatening to take me again. They said this time they’d take you too.”

That’s why he was going back to base. To work with his brother and everyone to make sure nothing happened. You didn’t live far from the base but they were thinking about bringing you on post to be cautious. That’s why Logan went back to work so soon. To protect you. That’s why he was telling you all of this now, to further protect you.

You were scared. Hearing about something like this happening was one thing, but knowing the man who stole your husband and almost broke him from the inside out was completely different. Especially when you knew that he wanted you too. Oh god. Logan held you and told you that the two of you could always move on base where you’d be protected and closer to him. You’d be amongst him and the other soldiers and Riley, Hesh’s dog. They wouldn’t let anything happen. And so you agreed. That night you just focused on being together, holding one another and eating your delicious lasagna as you reminisced together. 

Over the course of the next week, you brought as many of your necessities over to base where you and Logan continued living together. You met some friends of his and their partners, gaining your own group of friends not long after moving. Some had even assisted in bringing more of your things over when Logan had to work.

Later down the line, the Ghost team flew out. You weren’t told anything about what the mission entailed, but when Logan came to you, mask on, and put his ring in your hand before kissing you goodbye, you had an idea.

“I will make sure no one, not a single person touches you. Not a single damn person. I will keep it that way. I promise.” He whispered, voice more stern than ever. 

Your friends on base were all a wonderful support system during the next week they were gone for. You weren’t able to reach out again but you believed in them. You took care of Riley, who’d grown to love you.

When the week was done, they came back and Logan had made a beeline for you. You were reading, his ring back on your necklace when the door opened and your husband walked in, covered in dirt and other unidentifiable muck and alive. You rushed to jump into his arms and kiss him, ignoring the weird taste of said dirt in your mouth. You gave his ring back, ignoring the dirt that was on his hands too. While you held him, he whispered in your ear, “It’s all over now. We can go home.”.

So you did. David, Keegan and Merrick were kind enough to assist with moving your things back over and checking your house for anything that wasn’t meant to be there, anything that indicated a break in. Shit, they’d even checked the vents too. When that was all done, you made lasagna for them and spent the evening laughing together and savoring the peace that had finally come over the world again. Later, you and Logan laid in bed together, happy as ever and whispered sweet words to each other. Both of you could finally get some rest.

The end, thank you for reading! I will also post this on my ao3 @ RiversSong82

[aidlyncanon]

this is my first actual tumblr post since idk what to do but ive had this idea in my head for a while and I wanted to share 🤗

so heres what I think each sbg characters love languages are. I wanted to include both the love language they express towards other and the type that resonates? with them when expressed by others. i dont know how to word that but I hope itll make sense 🙏

if it's inaccurate im sorry im not great at wording but i did try and make it at least a bit accurate which is hard when im unsure to most of these

𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐋𝐘𝐍 𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐑

𝐓𝐎 𝐇𝐄𝐑: 𝐐𝐔𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄/𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐈𝐂𝐄?

— I feel like this may be the only one that properly fits Ashlyn. I could see her maybe also liking acts of service but i cant exactly explain why.

Maybe its because I think its also what she would do for others that I think it would fit. Like I said maybe acts of service like people doing little things to make her life easier.

I have a headcanon that Taylor or Ben has things in their bags for the others (total mom friends) so imagine her shock when she found out someone had ear plugs in their bag incase she needed them?

you get where im going with this?

𝐓𝐎 𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐒: 𝐐𝐔𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄

— I take little to no criticism on this. I can't imagine Ashlyn's being anything else. If she tried getting a gift she'd probably take too long wondering if theyd actually use it. Physical touch is a meh, she doesnt hate it but it wouldnt be her favourite. She said herself she isnt the best with words.

Her gift to people is just her presence. She'd be the type to occasionally need quiet but wouldn't mind being in comfortable silence with someone she likes. I feel like quality time would be her way of showing she cares for someone.

𝐀𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐍 𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐊

𝐓𝐎 𝐇𝐈𝐌: ???

— This is an idk because im basing these off of what we know about their background and character but we know like nothing so everything about this is based off of pure theory.

The only canon part i can mention is that during his conversation with Ashlyn at the school he mentioned how since he moved around a lot he never really had a true bond with anyone.

"You seemed like the type to only get close with people who mean something to you."

So Aiden didnt just want someone he could feel attached to, he also wanted to feel cared for. Its a two way street with him.

While I could see him loving physical touch as I doubt he got enough of that as a child and he clearly loves being touchy with people I feel like with what we know I could argue really any love language. He'd probably take anything if it makes him feel cared for.

I found a picture of a chart saying "your love language may show what you lacked as a child" and he checked every box so he's fucked.

I ultimately want to settle with physical touch as he seemed shocked when Ashlyn initiated the hug likely due to being the one to always initiate them. Like above he probably just wants his efforts reciprocated.

𝐓𝐎 𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐒: 𝐏𝐇𝐘𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐋 𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇

— Self explanatory we see him being touchy with Ashlyn. He also put his hand on Tyler (idk if this is still fast pass if it is my apologies).

"he did that as a stay away from my girl" stfu. 🤗

𝐁𝐄𝐍 𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐊

𝐓𝐎 𝐇𝐈𝐌: 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐀𝐅𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

— I take ZERO criticism on this.

Were all aware how bad his bullying was so I doubt he heard anything nice about him.

The main thing that makes me believe this is that every time he gets complimented or something nice said about him he gets sort of flustered and blushes.

This ^ was ben after Ashlyn complimented his bandaging job. A small compliment I know but even after what taylor said about him opening up he blushed there too.

You can't deny it means a lot to him he probably thought about those for a while.

𝐓𝐎 𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐒: 𝐆𝐈𝐅𝐓 𝐆𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆

— I talked about this in a discord server briefly but I want to share it here. You know the quote "the quieter you are the more you hear"? Well thinking of that ive come up w the idea that Ben likely is more observant compared to most people.

Hed be the one to notice if someone was looking at something for a while in a store or hear it pass in conversation. Make a mental or physical note of it and get it for them.

I just imagine him being the type to be like "i know you like this" or "this reminded me of you". I feel like he wouldnt be the greatest at expressing it in many other ways so he resorts to getting people things.

Hes also pretty artsy so I can also just imagine him making people little things for them.

Like, tyler taught him guitar? gets tyler a new pick. Logan looking at something in the store? need to remember that. and so on

𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐀𝐍 𝐅𝐈𝐄𝐋𝐃𝐒

𝐓𝐎 𝐇𝐈𝐌: 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐀𝐅𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

— Similar to Ben's. I could maybe see quality time being important to him as he hasnt had many people want to stick around him.

I mean his parents didnt want him and barrons group are just assholes so spending time with someone who genuinely cares for him? Doing an activity he enjoys? Hes over the moon.

𝐓𝐎 𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐒: 𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐈𝐂𝐄

— I can see him wanting to help people, i mean he helped Noah (the guy who barron replaced him with). I can imagine him doing little things for the group and people he loves.

He might get a bit embarrassed if confronted about it but ultimately hed do it again.

𝐓𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐎𝐑 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐙

𝐓𝐎 𝐇𝐄𝐑: 𝐐𝐔𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄???

— This is up in the air but I feel like it fit her the best? I imagine after her dad dying at a young age she grew up knowing that time with people is limited and can end at any moment.

So i can imagine her really appreciating someone spending one-on-one of just personal time with her. But i can also just see her appreciating any type.

My thing is I can imagine her being happy with receiving anything as long as someone had her best interest at heart then she'd become the happiest girl ever.

𝐓𝐎 𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐒: 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐀𝐅𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

— Another give in, she does it ALL THE TIME. Its literally her defining feature. Shes very good with words and likes making others feel better about themselves. Seeing people perk up from her words would be enough to make her own day better.

I imagine she too, like tyler, had to be there for her mom a lot. So she probably learnt it from that experience. I also imagine her want to make people happier stemmed from seeing Tyler slowly lose interest in everything around him and wanting to be able to be the person who could make his day just a bit better.

Though like above I could see taylor doing things she knows mean the most of others. Like the moment she realized Ben likes words of affirmations she made sure to compliment him a bit more. After realizing Ashlyn likes quality time she would find a way to do that while also not overwhelming Ashlyn, say a movie or just going on a walk. Shed make an effort to make people happy based off of what they love the most.

𝐓𝐘𝐋𝐄𝐑 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐙

𝐓𝐎 𝐇𝐈𝐌: 𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐈𝐂𝐄

— Tyler spent his entire childhood taking care of people so imagine how he would react to being taken care of for once.

I figure like at first hed be a bit reluctant however I think ultimately it would mean a lot to him to not have to always be rhe one taking care of others but being able to rest for once.

Like idk how to word it but I think it fits him, I could also see MAYBE words of affirmation? since he did want that when Logan Ashlyn and Ben found him but then again I dont blame him he was literally sitting bleeding.

𝐓𝐎 𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐒: 𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐈𝐂𝐄?

— This one has a question mark since im not sure. Taking care of others has just became nature to him, its his factory settings. Its not something he like goes and does to get people interested its just natural to him.

I dont think its something he'd do specifically to express care, he'd likely be unaware how much it could mean to someone since its just life to him.

Im not too sure what his would actually be MAYBE quality time again similar to Taylors in the sense that he knows just how fast someone can lose their lives so he likely would appreciate someone wanting to actually spend time with him.

Even if he wouldnt admit it.

If these are inaccurate then I apologize I did try to make them as accurate as I could but wording my thoughts isnt something i'm great at.

Most of these im unsure of but I wanted to talk about anyway so idk gimme ur opinions on them id love to hear them esp since im unsure for half of these :)

[nerdygaymormon]

Favorite LGBTQ movie and TV quotes

“Um, I do drink red wine, but I also drink white wine. And I’ve been known to sample the occasional rosé. And a couple summers back, I tried a Merlot that used to be a Chardonnay, which got a bit complicated… I like the wine and not the label. Does that make sense?”

— David Rose, Schitt’s Creek, Season 1, Episode 10

“That felt so good to say. I feel like I just solved an escape room I’ve been trapped in my entire life.”

— Fabiola Torres, Never Have I Ever, Season 1, Episode 5

“Look, I’ll be hurt either way. Isn’t it better to be who I am?”

— Eric Effiong, Sex Education, Season 1, Episode 7

“Everybody’s story is different. There’s your version, and my version, and everything in between. But the one thing that all of those stories have in common is that moment right before you say those words when your heart is racing, and you don’t know what’s coming next. That moment’s really terrifying. And then once you say those words, you can’t unsay them. A chapter has ended, and a new one’s begun, and you have to be ready for that.”

— John, Happiest Season

“The good thing about being different is that no one expects you to be like them”

— Ellie Chu, The Half Of It

"When I'm with Brittany, I finally understand what people are talking about when they talk about love. I've tried so hard to push this feeling away, and keep it locked inside, but every day just feels like a war. I walk around so mad at the world, but I'm really just fighting with myself. I don't want to fight anymore. I'm just too tired. I have to just be me."

— Santana Lopez, Glee, Season 3, Episode 7

“Now, there is a long and honorable tradition in the gay community, and it has stood us in good stead for a very long time. When somebody calls you a name…you take it and own it.”

— Mark Ashton, Pride

“So I'm bisexual. So what? It's LGBTQ for a reason. There's a B in there and it doesn't mean Badass. Okay, it does, but it also means Bi.”

— Callie Torres, Grey's Anatomy, Episode 1105

“We’re standing here in Philadelphia, the, uh, City of Brotherly Love, the birthplace of freedom where the, uh, founding fathers authored the Declaration of Independence, and I don’t recall that glorious document saying anything about all straight men are created equal. I believe it says all men are created equal.”

— Joe Miller, Philadelphia

"Yes, I wear foundation. Yes, I live with a man. Yes, I'm a middle- aged fag. But I know who I am, Val. It took me twenty years to get here, and I'm not gonna let some idiot senator destroy that. F*** the senator, I don't give a damn what he thinks."

— Armand Goldman, The Birdcage

"Being gay is your thing. There are parts of it you have to go through alone. I hate that. As soon as you came out, you said, "Mom, I'm still me." I need you to hear this: You are still you, Simon. You are still the same son who I love to tease and who your father depends on for just about everything. And you're the same brother who always complements his sister on her food, even when it sucks. You get to exhale now, Simon. You get to be more you than you have been in... in a very long time. You deserve everything you want."

— Emily Spier, Love, Simon

"The greatest gift we can give each other is our authentic selves and sharing that. Sharing our truth is what will make us strong. So here I am. I am both human and alien. And I am a trans woman."

— Kara Danvers, Supergirl, Season 4, Episode 19

"But I feel more when I look at a picture of Kristen Stewart than I do when I kiss him."

— Elena Alvarez, One Day at a Time,

"You can’t change it. You can’t fix me. Because I’m not broken, I don’t need to be fixed, OK? I’m me!"

— Ian Gallagher, Shameless, Season 5, Episode 12

"Becoming me was the greatest creative project of my life."

Eliot Waugh, The Magicians, Season 1, Episode 1

"Every time someone steps up and says who they are, the world becomes a better, more interesting place. So, thank you."

—Raymond Holt, Brooklyn Nine-Nine, Season 5, Episode 10

"I might be…bisexual, and you guys know I hate labels, but this one feels important right now to own the space I’m in and to make sense of it."

—Kat Edison, The Bold Type

[karlkapri]

hi! bit of a meandering message haha, but since it’s compliment joy day i figured it’d be alright to share with you anyway.

coming across your blog during the playoffs is actually what spurred me into watching hockey this season! was never really all that interested in sports in general, didn’t really ‘get it’, why people were into them, but i was seeing a lot of stuff about the playoffs all over social media, found your blog specifically, and thought you were super funny and creative.

was like “hm. this is not something i’ve really thought about before or truly understand…….…but i think i’d like to! let’s investigate”. so i followed you, some of your mutuals, looked up the rules and general structure, and watched games on youtube and all that good stuff during the offseason. and even managed to rope my family into it along the way! 

once the season started i got an espn+ subscription, and now every other day i’m watching wild games, pacing around my living room and/or hollering at the tv in elation/consternation with my brother and mom lol. we’ve never been a sports family, but now my brother’s got his own team that he cheers for as well; and my mom’s got her favorite little guy (connor bedard) that she’ll quite literally point at whenever he’s on screen haha. 

getting into it has really allowed me to connect and engage not only with my brother and mom, but also with my extended family/friends/strangers/coworkers etc etc in a way i was never able to before either. and i’ve even made new friends too! could’ve never imaged it just last year, but now there’s nothing better than striking up conversation by turning to the person next to me and asking “oh man, you catch that game last night?”. and TO BOOT, it’s been a segue-way into watching other sports for me as well :) just a grand ol’ time all around.

all that being said, truly thank you so much for sharing your love, talent, and passion, joy. it’s brought a lot of happiness into my life that i don’t think i would have discovered otherwise. hope you have a fantastic one!

john green starts his chapter on jerzy dudek’s penalty save in the 2005 european cup final by saying “id like to tell you a story of joy and wonder and stupidity. it’s a sports story.” and i think that very much encapsulates the vibe of this fandom.

hockey is so stupid. it’s so stupid. it is a bunch of canadians with no teeth chasing each other around the ice with knives strapped to their feet. there’s no ball. there’s no out of bounds. there’s only three periods. fighting isn’t just allowed but encouraged and the rules are made up and only occasionally apply.

ridiculous sport. deeply, deeply unserious. it’s the best.

im glad you got into hockey and it’s so lovely that you got your family to share in it with you as well! (my mom also does the Favourite Little Guy Point but her chosen one is kirill) sports can be such a wonderful catalyst for shared experiences, big moments and easy conversations. i love having a special interest i can talk to my colleagues about. i love hockey discords. i love meeting online friends at real life games.

i know i quote this to death but: “it’s not about the game, it’s about the people. [hockey] is just the fire around which we all gather.”

all that goes to say:

thank you so much for this ask. my blog, silly as it is, has been such a wonderful (and necessary) creative outlet for me. it means the world to hear that it’s inspired something positive in others as well.