#Soda Franklin | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

megamindsecretlair · 7 months ago

Note

Do you write for Franklin saint? Maybe with him getting that stress relief??? Like I want him to be pussy whipped fr. (Feel free to ignore but your Franklin works are magical)

A/N: Ask and ye shall receive!!!!

Stress Relief

AO3 Link!

Pairing: Franklin Saint x Black!Fem!reader / Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. Cursing, PIV, oral (male receiving) multiple uses of n-word, kissing. No major spoilers for Snowfall.

Summary: During a stressful period at the end of season 3, Franklin is dealing with a lot of pressure from all sides. Between Leon popping off at the mouth and Manboy getting bold, Franklin is running around stressed. You feel bad. You want to help him. Even though it's hot as hell outside, you decide to do a little heating up at home to take the tension away.

Word Count: 2,434k

A/N: Whew! This got ME hot and bothered. I hope you enjoy! I'm also on AO3 now! Old dogs can learn new tricks! Please, please, please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers! I can't get better if I don't get feedback!

Taglist: @planetblaque @notapradagurl7 @miyuhpapayuh @henneseyhoe @blackerthings @wide-nose-and-wonderful @halfofmysoulsblog @sevikasblackgf @slippinninque @babybratzmaraj @browngirldominion @thecookiebratz @we-outsiiiide @kindofaintrovert @theunsweetenedtruth @theyscreamsannii @kaaliyahsierra @pinkpantheris @blackelysian @sugrcookiiee @hihellogoodbyebruh @softimgyu @neawarren @harmshake @iv0rysoap @ciaqui @amethyst09 @nworbaij @nerdieforpedro

Fuck it was hot as hell in LA. You fanned yourself as you sat in front of the fan, titties out, trying to cool off. You wore shorts, though that did nothing for the sticky sweat between your thighs. Your braids were off your neck, resting on the couch cushion. LA has had some record heat waves, but this felt like one of the worst ones. The radio called for everyone to do their part for conservation. Sheeit. It was hotter than a devil’s draws outside.

Franklin was going to be out all day, running errands with Leon. The mess between him and Manboy was stressing your man out and you were running out of ways to help him. Though you didn’t want anything to do with handling drugs, you tried to help in other ways. Counting his money, checking in on his mom and Alton, and holding down the house while he was away.

When Franklin got like this, it was best to get out of his way. It was tough for you to do because you were a helper by nature. You didn’t like seeing people in distress when you could do something about it. Sweets usually did it, but Franklin’s only vice was a nice glass of soda.

You sighed, adding to the hot air blowing through the room. Sweat gathered on your skin, under your boobs, giving you a light sheen that was bordering on uncomfortable. You tried to distract yourself with ways you could help Franklin relieve some of that tension.

It’d be easier if the mu’fucka just went on and had a drink. Everybody had something.

Keys jingling made you lean around the couch to look at the front door. Franklin slid into the house, dark blue shirt clinging to his lean frame. You watched him move, tension in the set of his shoulders and his lips pressed together.

“Hey baby,” you said.

Franklin did a double take, looking around for you. You made a noise so that he knew to look on the floor, in front of the couch. His eyes landed on you and he gave you a smile. “What you doin’ here?” He asked.

“I wasn’t finna go to work in this shit. Probably should have for the air conditioning, but well. It’s too hot for all that,” you said and waved your hand. Thinking about air conditioning made you pay attention to how the heat rolled over your skin.

Franklin closed the door and walked over to the couch. He passed in front of you and sat down. He leaned over a planted a kiss on your forehead. Then he sat back on the couch with a loud sigh.

“If anyone ask, I was over Rob’s last night,” he said.

You turned around to face him. “Okay. But where were you really?” You asked.

Franklin’s head rested on the back of the dark brown couch, looking up towards the ceiling like it had the answers he needed. He licked his lips slowly.

“Don’t you fix your lips to lie, Franklin Saint,” you said.

Franklin chuckled and it warmed you up to see him smile, even a little. You missed that damn smile on his face. Over the past few weeks, he’d been steadily growing more tired. The smiles didn’t come as easy.

“You know I try to keep you outta this shit,” he said.

“Too bad. How’d things go with Leon and Manboy?” You asked. He wasn’t ready to talk about last night and that was okay. For now.

Franklin leaned forward and rubbed his hands together, a grimace on his face. He avoided looking at you so he probably wasn’t going to tell the whole truth. Must be really bad. You knew he sometimes had to do things he wasn’t proud of. Things that would make his mama cry if she really knew.

You weren’t so cavalier about the things he did but you understood him. Growing up in the hood like you both did, it was a desolate wasteland sometimes. It felt like there was a giant hand on your neck, keeping you down no matter how hard you worked to get out from under it. Franklin was only trying to even the playing field.

“I’m so sick of trying to get niggas to act right,” Franklin said. He stood up, rolling his shoulders and cracking his knuckles.

You grimaced. Maybe you shouldn’t have mentioned anything. “Leon so fucking busy worrying about Wanda, Manboy got the Crips on lock in Compton and Leon pushing in. Like cats and fuckin’ dogs with these niggas!” He yelled.

You stayed quiet and let him vent. He was even more wound up than you thought. Had you ever seen him so worked up? It’d been so long since he was home long enough to have an actual conversation. Mostly, you talked in between his meetings and goings on. He’d page you and you’d find a few minutes to hurry and call before he scooted off again.

Matter of fact, it’d been quite some time since you had your legs wrapped around his waist. You felt bad, but as he spoke, you stared at his frame. At the hard lean to his shoulders when he was truly pissed. Sometimes, his walk turned you on more than his words ever could.

You stood up, halting Franklin in his tracks. His eyes dropped down to your titties, but you took his hand. You silently led him to the couch, making him sit back down. “You’re stressed,” you said.

Franklin opened his mouth, but you placed a finger over his lips. “You’re stressed and running around with too much responsibility. Too many things on your mind, baby,” you said.

He sighed and finally nodded, seeming to deflate completely. You moved your hand under his chin and lifted it. You planted a kiss to his lips. He groaned, leaning in to deepen the kiss. You pulled away, kissed his cheek, and leaned down to his ear. “I know how to get your mind right,” you softly sang.

“What you got in mind?” He asked.

You smirked and sank to your knees in front of the couch. You eyed him as you went for his zipper and pulled. You moved his jeans and briefs down, until his hardening dick sprang free. You moaned at the sight of it, biting your lip as if you could already taste the salty taste of him.

You lowered your mouth on him, taking your time to work him all the way in. He groaned as your mouth took as much of him as you could. You swirled your tongue around his shaft and then around his tip. Pre-cum leaked into your mouth and you moaned, swallowing him down.

“Fuck,” he sighed. He gathered up your braids into a tight ponytail.

“You need some relief baby?” You asked around his dick.

Franklin’s eyes were locked on yours. On the way that you smiled at him while sucking him back down. He nodded and pushed your head further. You slobbered on his dick, coating him with your saliva. Your wet, loud sucking battled with the fan blowing hot air across your back.

Franklin slowly pulled you by your hair up and down and kept his eyes locked on his disappearing length inside of you. You let him go with a wet plop and then bit his thigh. He hissed and gave you a wild look.

“I won’t break Franklin, you know that. You need some real relief? Fuck me then,” you said, giving him a challenging look. You dared him with your eyes.

“I don’t wanna hurt you,” he said. But his eyes were growing wider, breathing in creasing. Sweat made his dark skin glisten.

You licked him from his balls to the tip of his shaft and he gasped. “You won’t,” you said.

Franklin grinned and shook his head. “Fuck I do to deserve you, huh?” He asked.

He didn’t give you a chance to respond. He licked his lips slowly, grabbed your braids tighter, and then pushed you down on his dick. He groaned, yelling a bit, as he fucked your mouth how he needed. You planted your hands on his thighs to brace yourself and settled in for the ride.

You couldn’t resist teasing his tip whenever it ran past your lips. More pre-cum leaked into your mouth and you slurped that up. Drool spilled down your chin. You ran your tongue underneath his dick, tracing the hint of vein there. Franklin pushed his hips forward.

“Gonna cum, gonna cum,” he muttered. Not a second later, he shoved your head down and exploded in your mouth. His dick pulsed with hot cum shooting down your throat. You swallowed every last drop, breathing heavily.

Franklin threw his head back with a groan, ragged gasps escaping him. He was so damn hot after he came. When his lips parted and his eyes were closed. That throat of his. His heaving breaths making his chest rise and fall so rapidly.

You wiped your mouth clear of lingering drool. You moved to stand up, but Franklin caught your movement. He snatched you about the waist, and shoved your shorts and panties down. He pulled you onto his lap while he shoved his own pants down, further down his long legs.

You straddled him and he moved his fingers to tease your clit. “You wet for me?” He asked. His voice was low and husky, sending tingles down your spine.

“Yes, baby,” you said. Sucking him off made you so unbearably wet. Perhaps it wasn’t just him that needed stress relief. Being so worried about him caused its own little bubble of frustration.

His thumb traced circles around your clit while he captured your lips with his own. He kissed you like you supplied the oxygen he needed to survive. He nipped at your bottom lip before diving in for more. His other hand gripped your hip. Fingers digging in for purchase.

You moaned into his lips. His finger worked magic on your pussy, pulling you closer and closer to the height of pleasure. Dripping onto his thighs, he moved his finger and circled his tip with your juices.

He rubbed his dick between your wet folds, gathering enough of your slick to push in without hurting you. You hissed as he breached your entrance. He kissed your neck, then down to your chest. He licked your nipple and then suckled it.

“Oh-Oh fuck,” you moaned. The sweet bite of pain relaxed you enough to allow him inside. He pushed in deeper, working his hips until he was sliding in and out of you with ease. Your forehead dropped against his as you rode him.

“Fuuck,” he moaned. Your breaths co-mingled, absorbed each other by being pressed chest to chest. Your sweat made you glide against his chest, his shirt the only barrier. You stole kisses in between moans, but you were too blissed out to stay connected for long.

Franklin’s hands moved up to rub up and down your back and you sighed. You kissed his forehead. You were a hot mess at the moment. The smell of sex heavy and thick in the air. You didn’t care. He felt so good inside you. Like home. Like the most sinful heaven. Like sweet hell.

Franklin pulled out and you groaned. You instantly missed him. He placed you on the couch and he stood up. He grinned and pulled off his shirt. He soaked through it with sweat. He kicked off his pants, leaving him in his naked glory.

You admired the length of his body, licking your lips at the sheer beauty of him. He pulled your hips and flipped you over. You got to your knees, placing your hands over the back of the couch for leverage.

He grabbed your hips and shoved in with a low, rumbling moan. “Oh fuck!” You screamed. You gripped the back of the couch, nails digging in while he hit it from the back with a bruising, punishing pace.

Your ass smacked on his thighs and he grunted with every stroke. “Oh fuck, fuck that pussy, baby,” you moaned. “Beat this pussy up!”

Franklin groaned, seeming to go deeper or stroke harder according to your demands. “Needed this. Needed you,” he croaked.

“Needed you tooooo,” you moaned. You dropped your sweaty forehead to your forearm, indescribable pleasure overtaking your whole body. Like you were weightless. Jointless. Like you could fall apart at any moment and his dick could stitch you back together.

“Niggas don’t fuckin’ listen. But you do, don’t you baby?” Franklin asked.

“Yes, baby, I listen,” you cried out, nodding though you weren’t sure if he could see it. He grabbed hold of your braids again, yanking your head back. Your back bowed as he entered at a new angle, dragging the tip of him across a deep, sweet spot that made you scream.

You came, body and limbs shaking uncontrollably. Franklin continued to pound inside of you, grunting and oblivious that your world was splitting apart atom by atom.

“Oh fuck, baby. This pussy yours, baby,” you managed to eke out in between moans.

That lit a fire under Franklin. His fingers gripped your sides harder, his strokes got deeper, and his moans bounced off of the walls. He growled as he came, hot, pulsing jets of cum that stuffed you to the brim.

Your legs turned to jelly and you collapsed across the back of the couch. Franklin’s quick breaths fanned across your back. Your body still shivered, aftershocks from such a rough and deeply satisfying fuck.

Franklin’s hips stilled deep inside, keeping you plugged up with his cum. He dropped forward, pushing you into the couch. You looked back at him and he smiled sloppily at you.

“You know just how to take care of me,” he whispered.

You smiled, groaning as he slipped out. His cum slipped out after and he disappeared from behind you. You heard water running and then he was back, wiping you down with a cool washcloth.

You sighed as the cool cloth hit your overheated skin. When he was done, he plopped the towel onto the coffee table and then joined you on the couch. Despite the heat, you burrowed into his embrace, throwing your legs over his.

He rubbed your arm while you played with the tiny hairs on his thighs. He kissed your forehead. “Fuckin’ love the shit outta you,” he said.

You leaned up to look at him in his beautiful eyes. “Love the shit outta you too.”

Plenty more of Franklin to go around! The Secret Franklin Saint Files

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daredevilexchange · 5 months ago

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(Page 1 of 2... page 2 on AO3 :D)

Date Crash

Fic by @ironwingedhawk, art by @melonnabar

General Audiences No Archive Warnings Apply

Daredevil (TV), The Punisher (TV 2017), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe

Relationships: Frank Castle/Franklin "Foggy" Nelson, Matt Murdock & Franklin "Foggy" Nelson

Characters: Franklin "Foggy" Nelson, Frank Castle, Matt Murdock

Additional Tags: Date Night, Protective Matt Murdock, Sweet Frank Castle

Words: 2,142

Summary: When Frank and Foggy have their second date, everything goes smooth- At least until Daredevil breaks through the window.

Dating! Action! Friendship! Glass shards! Soft Feelings TM! What's not to love?

Page 1 of 2 of a fan comic featuring Foggy Nelson, Frank Castle, and Matt Murdock from Marvel Comics. Page 1 has 5 panels. Panel 1, Foggy and Frank are in a diner booth by a window eating fries and drinking soda. They are both wearing nice clothes and staring dopily at each other. Foggy says, "I tried telling him that paying the parking ticket once doesn't meant he can now park there for free." Panel 2, Foggy continues, "Then he gets mad at me because he thinks I-" Panel 3, Matt dressed as Daredevil crashes through the diner window by Frank and Foggy's table. Panel 4, Matt, covered in scratches, clutches his head as he goes, "Ughh..." Panel 5, Frank and Foggy's sodas and fries are now on the floor. Matt turns to Foggy with a question mark and exclamation mark by his head. Foggy, with a couple nervous sweat drops on his face, says, "Uhh, hi Matt." Frank is nonplussed. Comic by @melonnabar

#daredevil #punisher #the punisher #frank castle #foggy nelson #matt murdock #marvel #rarepair24 #fanfiction #fanart

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vomittedsoap · 16 days ago

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Assigning The Terror characters a DumDum flavor

Crozier: Orange (or root beer)

Fitzjames: Cream Soda

Franklin: fruit punch (only old people like this flavor)

Jopson: lemon lime

Irving: butterscotch

Little: blue raspberry

Hodgson: birthday cake (I've never tried this one actually)

Collins: root beer

Goodsir: peach-mango

Stanley: sour apple (lmao)

Tozer: cherry (matches his outfit)

Macdonald: watermelon

Silna: Cotton Candy

Hickey: pineapple

Gibson: bubblegum

Bridgens: strawberry

Peglar: grape (Peglar is an anagram for grape.)

#debate is encouraged #some are probably wrong idk #peglar grape is missing an L but i dont care he's Pegar now #also unpopular opinion I really like the cotton candy flavor #root beer and butterscotch are still the best #....I assigned my two fave characters those flavors???... um no i didn't... shut up.#Jirving is the kind of guy who would fight other people over dumdum flavors in the bowl at BibleStudy (i know this because I do that)#the terror #also happy 100th anniversary Dumdums?#amc the terror #the terror amc #text post #assigning characters #john irving #james fitzjames #francis crozier

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kermit-coded · 6 months ago

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this would not have happened if donut were here.

okay this'll be the thread for like. immediate thoughts.

#soda speaks #rvb #rvb restoration #red vs blue #rvb19 spoilers #rvb restoration spoilers #franklin delano donut

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carriedawatermelon · 24 days ago

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Ronancetober, day five. Back to pure fluff. Auntsy-verse. Another short one, feat. Robin Harrington, teen Nancy’s poor choices in decor, and Milk Duds as consolation.

Prompt: Action Movie

They’re in the theatre for Inception, a large popcorn in Robin’s lap where she sits between her aunts. Robin has Milk Duds and Nancy has M&Ms and they all have sodas the size of their heads, as is their summer tradition.

All of Steve’s kids come to Aunt Camp for a weekend, usually more, cascading so that there are various combinations of little Harringtons in the house but always also at least a little one-on-one time. When the oldest Harrington called in the middle of her first year college exams to ask if she could still come to Aunt Camp, halfway to tears and underslept, they’d made it very clear that they wanted her to come forever, that there was no age limit.

Now she’s finished with her sophomore year and talking with Robin about her fall internship, Robin very engaged and also occasionally throwing Milk Duds at her niece’s mouth. Little Robin catches them, pausing easily and smiling as she chews, because they are alike in that way.

They’re early, because Nancy’s niece is like her in this way, and Nancy sips her Coke while she listens and asks questions, and quietly applauds a particularly impressive catch. She also plucks two Milk Duds from Robin’s hair.

It’s just the three of them in the theatre, matinee on a movie that’s been out for a month, so when the preview for Mission Impossible 4 comes on, little Robin doesn’t bother hiding her groan, booing at the screen.

“God, when are they gonna stop making these? That guy’s the worst.”

Nancy knows it’s coming before Robin says a word, sighs loudly as, right on cue, her partner says, “You know Nance had a poster of him on her wall.”

“Oh my god!” Little Robin’s staring at her, delighted horror in the light of the movie screen, and her namesake grins at Nancy from over her shoulder. “Auntsy.” She gestures at the screen, where Tom Cruise is looking very serious. Something blows up. “Him?”

“Yes, him, thank you very much. It was the 80s. Risky Business was very popular.”

“Was it a Risky Business poster, Nance?”

Nancy cuts her eyes at Robin, arches a brow, but she’s smiling, happy to play, happy to be far, far away from the life where she tore Tom Cruise from Teen Beat and taped him to her wall.

Little Robin laughs, still delighted. “Oh my god, this is amazing. Leah’s gonna lose it.”

“It was twenty-five years ago. There were some things I didn’t understand about myself at the time,” she points out, reaching across and stealing the Milk Duds unrepentantly, ignoring Robin’s squawk. “And I thought you went to Carleton. Don’t you know about compulsory heterosexuality? Where do you have to send a kid to get liberal brainwashing done right these days?”

Little Robin waves her hand dismissively and Nancy sees her at six and sixteen and twenty all at once. “Oh, please. You’re, like, disgustingly happy with R1 and your gay little garden. You’ve got a signed panel of Dykes to Watch Out For framed on your wall. You’re driving to Ann Arbor to see Brandi Carlile in two weeks.”

“Dial it back there, Franklin Graham,” Robin says with a laugh.

Little Robin rolls her eyes. “Still not over the fact that you’re going without me, by the way. Anyway, nice try with the comphet Auntsy, but I get to make fun of you for having a Tom Cruise poster. And so does Leah. And also probably everyone else. Does my mom know?”

Nancy sits forward to make eye contact with her partner, does not offer to return the Milk Duds. “You know it’s going to be your fault when all we get for Christmas this year is Tom Cruise paraphernalia.”

Robin shrugs, grinning, and she’s very handsome, and Nancy shakes a Milk Dud into her palm and eats it with malice. Lips twitching in amusement, Robin brings her hand to her heart in false mourning, and Nancy shakes her head and sits back.

Little Robin is squinting in Robin’s direction, tilting her head.

“Hello?” Robin says. “Big Bird, do you copy?”

“You know…” Little Robin’s voice is thoughtful but there’s an undertone to it that Nancy knows well. “Young Tom Cruise. R1 with her 1998 hair. I can see the resemblance.”

Nancy barks a laugh, Robin making a sound of indignation.

“Excuse me?!”

Little Robin shrugs, sits back and focuses on the popcorn, grinning to herself. She knows what she’s done. Nancy loves her, the little shit.

Nancy offers the Milk Duds back to Robin, who takes them with a pout. They are a consolation and she knows it, chews one sadly.

“I don’t look like Tom Cruise,” she half-asks, and Nancy loves her, too.

“Of course not, baby.” She uses her best patronizing voice, smiles into her straw at little Robin’s snort.

“Nance! Nancy Wheeler. I do not look like Tom Cruise.”

“Shhh,” Nancy says. “It’s starting.”

“You’re both very mean to me.”

Two nights later, little Robin gone back to her parents, Robin appears in the door of Nancy’s home office in a button-down and crew socks, candlestick in hand.

“Oh my god,” Nancy laughs, out of her chair and in Robin’s space immediately. “Where the hell did you get that candlestick?”

“Thrift store,” she says proudly, Nancy’s hands already working at the buttons of her shirt. “The very nice woman at the checkout confirmed that I do not look like Tom Cruise.”

“Don’t talk to me about Tom Cruise while I’m trying to fuck you,” Nancy says, smiling into the skin of Robin’s neck.

“Copy that. Should I get a flight suit, though?”

Nancy finishes with the last button, lets her teeth graze Robin’s skin, and does not answer the question.

#ronance #ronance fic #ronancetober

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charleslee-valentine · 4 months ago

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Flesh and Blood need Flesh and Blood

For the Texas Chainsaw Massacre Disability Pride Month event: Day 6- Underestimated

Word Count: ~3,100

Warnings: Blood and violence. Accidental killing. Period typical ableism & ableist language. Mild panic attacks. Domestic abuse. Religious aspects.

_________

“Take him home. Now, boy.” Drayton Sawyer barks in his middle brother’s face, keeping his yelling hushed to avoid causing a scene.

“Y-Yessir.” Nubbins, for his part, gives a nod and takes off running, only stopping when his clammy hands wrap around the handles of a wheelchair.

Franklin’s wheelchair.

It’ll be a long walk from here, takin’ the road shoulder all the way from the gas station to home, but Drayton’s got a mess to clean and customers to serve that oughta take priority over drivin’ the boys home. Couldn’t be arranged unless it was planned, and nothin’ about today had been goin’ in that sort of direction.

The boys were all together in the station’s yard, running not wheeling or wobbling to the best of their abilities. Using whatever toys they could scrounge together they’d made a game, pitchin’ crushed soda cans, wads of dry gum, a bouncy ball, and so so long as they could smack it around with a bat. Ain’t no objective, though eventually they started trying to catch each other’s swings.

Bubba’s only nine still and learnin’ to upkeep all the things he’d been taught. It’s harder work for him to retain things in his brain, so he stumbles when he walks and struggles to hold a fork at supper, but that’s just Bubba. Mangled little face and all, that’s the Sawyers’ kid brother and he’s goin’ to be included in their play.

Ain’t up to no yuppie scum t’ decide who’s doin’ what and where. Don’t stop them from sharin’ uncalled for opinions.

“That boy out there, you ought lock him up ‘fore someone gets hurt. Teenaged, child, whatever. Don’t matter to them like that. Those are freaks of nature, ‘n whatever they are, they’s goin’ ruin it all the same. Comin’ after the comfortable. You know what I’m sayin’.”

The man wouldn’t stop lecturing Drayton about allowing Bubba to play in the yard with his brother and a friend, like that was the worst option. Like he had any clue of when Mama was perfectly willing to let the state take Bubba for a price, just before her disappearance from the picture. Had a lot of nerve bein’ so ignorant out loud.

Well thing is, Franklin was playing batter, and the man was storming over to lecture here too, and Drayton wasn’t quick enough comin’ ‘round the counter to stop it, and he just reacted. Swing the bat.

Broke the man’s nose on the first swing, saw blood and panicked. Kept swingin’ and jabbing with the bat ‘til his instincts told him the threat was gone and he could stop. Just like swatting a bug.

Except a man’s skull was spilling its contents all over the ground, and nobody even said a word. Nubbins went straight to helping his big brother carry it, Bubba took the bat and ran it inside. The practiced nature of what they were doing, hiding the evidence, didn’t really occur to Franklin just yet. His mind was focused on the trouble he’d face from the law or his parents or even God for this, nevermind if the Sawyers didn’t care.

Now Nubbins is just pushin’ him along like it’s not an issue in the world, and Franklin can’t help but worry out loud, “Oh Lord, why’d I do that?”

“D-Do what?” Nubbins tilts his head and leans down into Franklin’s line of vision, slowing their forward progress from leaning on the wheelchair so heavily.

“You saw me! I killed that man!” Franklin’s voice cracks harshly, his cheeks tinging pink from the embarrassment of that, as if that’s worse than homicide.

But Nubbins straightens out some and casually reminds him, “He was mean.”

Franklin blinks away the surprise of his casual nature and sputters, “Lots of people are mean! But I hit him ‘cross the head with a steel bat! That’s mean too, dontcha think?”

“Nawh.”

“Naw?! Nubbins I'm goin’ to prison. I beat a guy to death and my fam’ly gonna hate me, they ain’t never gonna let me back! Not even God’s gonna want me, it’s gotta be a sin to kill another man. Oh Lord I’m goin’ to Hell Nubbins!”

With Nubbins behind him and nobody around for miles, Franklin won’t deny he started crying.

Nubbins shocks him out of it again with a curious comment, “Wh-What’s it like?”

“What’s what like?” Franklin sniffles, picking at his nails nervously.

His friend downright giggles, “Hell. What’s Hell l-like? I-I never been there.”

Sometimes he forgets the Sawyers aren’t of the faith, seeing it’s so common in his own life. Had to lie downright and tell his mama that they’re church goers alright, just a different sect so they’ll never see them on Sundays. Think he said they was witnesses or somethin’. Sometimes it felt like God was more important to them than even he was, a lonely child ignored for the sake someone they don’t even know’s grace.

Now ain’t the time to be doubtin’ his beliefs, so he sticks to them, and explains, “Hell is where the bad people go when they die.”

“You isn’t a.. a bad people. That other guy was. H-He was mean to Bubba. Anyone m-mean to Bubba gots to sp-splatter.” One of his hands comes down on the rubber lined handle of the wheelchair, making a dull thud that rattles Franklin’s bones. Almost worse than his comment, “H-He smashed up r-real good too, Frankie!”

“Oh God, I’m gonna be sick..” Franklin gets overwhelmed until it tightens in his stomach and feels funny in his throat. He covers his mouth, “You got a bag I could throw up in?”

Despite Franklin’s urgency, Nubbins sounds so casual, “Jus’ lean o-over.”

“My spine is paralyzed silly, I cain't just lean any way I wanna.” Correcting him works to calm Franklin down some at least, staying level headed so he don’t yell at Nubbins over forgetting a good excuse to breathe normal.

“Oh. I c-can help lean ya.” He offers patiently, impressive for Nubbins.

Franklin decides a few deep breaths’ll do. “It’s alright- No I don’t think I’m gonna be sick no more. It’s alright.”

“My sick lasts a.. a l-lot l-longer than that!” There’s something like admiration there in his voice. Like it’s got nothin’ to do with Epstein-Barr and it’s just some talent Franklin has that makes him feel better.

He laughs softly, “That’s ‘cause you got a condition.”

“Nuh-Uh.” Nubbins argues, even though it isn’t true.

“Oh, alright.” Franklin just agrees ‘cause that’s easier. And things are good for a while, pleasant. ‘Til his worries come out again and the reality of running away from murder with Nubbins sets in, “You think your brother is mad at me?”

“N-No. Not you. H-He don’ hit no o-outsiders.”

“I ain’t an outsider. I’m your best friend.”

Switching to pushing the wheelchair with only one hand, he shakes out the other, happy from hearing Franklin say that. Nubbins wants Franklin to be happy too, “That’s true. B-But.. I won’ let him hurt ya! I-I’ll take the beatin’. It’s no t-trouble.”

Somehow, that brings more dread into Franklin’s heart, “Critter, that don’t make me feel better.”

Not knowing a better way to settle it, Nubbins just shrugs and keeps down the path towards home, imitating buzzing car engines as they pass, or the crunch of Franklin’s wheels along the cracking road. Ain’t all that worried honestly for the crime scene they’re leaving behind.

That’s when Franklin remembers that the second he had swung the bat, Bubba got overwhelmed by the confrontation and run off towards home. Can tell he’s in there from the curtains being drawn up tight when he knows for certain they was open when he got dropped off this morning.

Nubbins seems to remember about the same and takes off jogging a little faster down the rest of the drive, shaking Franklin’s wheelchair around accidentally. He lets it slide since it’s a big brother’s concern for his sibling causing the rush and don’t ask him to slow down.

After dragging him backwards up the stairs, Nubbins shoves the door open and calls out, “B-Bubba, you home yet?”

If they’re quiet, they can both hear a quiet chuffing noise deep in the house somewhere, Bubba making noises like a pig to soothe himself.

“C’mon L-Leatherface, answer me if- if you’s here!” Nubbins raises his voice some impatiently while pulling Franklin inside after himself.

This time they get some babbling in response, and though Franklin wishes he understood the little Sawyer’s language, he’s not a master yet.

It’s a good thing Nubbins answers his question just fine, “Yeh, I-I got Frankie with me. You c-come out. I need- I need helps with supper.”

Out of the basement he emerges, no sign of the distress beyond an extra layer of clothes, a soft jacket he wears when he needs the comfort. Don’t know who it belonged to for it to be so large, hanging down past his curled up hands and almost to his knees, but he loves that thing. At some point, Franklin realized it was a woman’s robe and thought it might belong to his mother, but she’s a mystery to Franklin too.

“Cook gonna be o-ornery when he gets home, so’s I-I want you to help make s-somethin’ good!” Taking on the big brother role, Nubbins bosses him around, “Me ‘n F-Frankie, we gonna clean up and get- get the house nice, s-so you gonna cook!”

All together they get it presentable, sweeping the floors and wiping down the counters. Franklin is assigned to the dining room only since he’s never been in the kitchen, setting up a fancy table cloth and some plates. Never seen the place look so tidy before, wonders if they only do cleaning up for the holidays or guests.

Somehow it all feels like he’s preparing for the gallows, sentenced to a hanging the very moment Drayton gets home and subjects him to whatever punishment he’s got to face. An eye for an eye, killed by the same bat maybe? The police called on him and shooting him blank in the head when he cries. Hopefully not one of the oldest Saywer’s signature beatings, he’d almost rather one of the other choices.

He’s shaking like a leaf by the time Drayton cracks the door open, talking to them at a low tone ‘cause he knows they’d be close, not stupid enough to hide after this.

“Boys. Today’s uh- been a big day, huh?”

Draytons words trail off into a chuckle, but everyone else stays silence. Franklin gives a wet sniffle, on the verge of tears again.

Putting his hands on the back of the master chair, he leans forward and glances down the table, showing a crooked smile. “Supper don’t look too bad. Uh. I brought you uh- somethin’ down from the station-“

Over his shoulder, he gestures to a grocery bag he left by the door.

Nubbins starts bouncing in his seat, drumming his palms against the table, “I-Is it the beeve!?”

“Don’t you go ruinin’ the surprise!” Drayton kicks the seat of his chair, all that modest cheer melted into fury in the literal blink of an eye, “Did you tell him?!”

Franklin swallows thickly, “Tell me what, sir?”

“About the meat!”

“No.. I.. No sir. I don’t got a clue what you’re talkin’ about. Either of ya.”

“In that case-“ He goes off to retrieve the bag and brings it to the table, raising it up along with his eyebrows at the same time, nudging it forward until he unveils what’s inside. Butchered meat, it seems, but the third piece comes out with lightly burnt skin left on, and a tattoo. “Congratulations, Franklin! You’re one of us now!”

“My- My firstie t-time was a long time ago. You’s jus’ a l-late bloomer like Bubba!” Nubbins adds, clapping Franklin on his shoulder over and over, like he’s petting a dog.

Franklin who’s mouth has gone so dry he’s got to down half his whole glass of sweet tea, “You’re talkin’ about killin’.”

“Uh-huh! Mine was a.. Bank man! B-Bank man come to take Drayton’s truck away, h-he put his hands on me, a-an’ I slashed his ugly neck r-right open!” Nubbins excitedly imitates an over-exaggerated spraying of blood by pushing air between his teeth and making the splatter with his hands.

It’s amusing, but the gravity of what they’re telling him holds Franklin’s joy down deep inside, “I jus’ don’t understand why. I never known anybody in the whole world to be like this. Killers this way.”

“We gots to eat.” Clearly repeating what somebody else told him, Nubbins gives a noncommittal shrug, “D-Dogs in the world ‘an stuff, w-we gots to eat each other.”

Ah. So he is right about that. Drayton cooked up the man he killed on accident and brought it home as some kind of treat for the boys.

Franklin tries to avoid havin’ to do the act by bringing up his own condition, diabetes type one, “Surely that ain’t good for my blood sugar. I got that disease you know, makes my sugar go up and down and I gotta watch it real close-“

“B-B-But you been eatin’ it j-jus’ fine all this time!” Nubbins interrupts him.

That’s when it clicks. He’s been doin’ what they do. Gettin’ so close to the Sawyers, the town loonies, was gonna end in somethin’ like this he s’posed. Everyone who said he’d always be a weak little baby, well they just didn’t know that he had it written in the stars he was gonna be a killer.

“Sally said the meat tasted rotten.” He comments vaguely, realizin’ he really is special this time.

Nubbins scoffs, never the biggest fan of Sally. “Sh-She would.”

“Oh hush. You aren’t to lay a hand on her, you hear?” Franklin scolds, but it’s just gently, just to make sure he isn’t doin’ the wrong thing by sittin’ at this table and not running.

Well, wheeling. He’d probably not outwheel Nubbins’ run, even if he’s got the arm strength to cave in a human skull.

“Never ever.” Making a cross over his heart, Nubbins declares it to him, “I swears, o-on my s-sick Granny.”

Dead granny. Franklin knows the woman ain’t still kickin’ no matter how much Nubbins insists she is. Though with this revelation he’s goin’ through lately, it prob’ly ain’t a lie that she’s in the upstairs of their house.

“Jesus. Well alright.”

The rest of the agreement is eat the evidence of his crime with the boys, then he’s free to go home. Seems so simple, it gets Franklin’s heart just pounding in his chest.

“I don’t.. Gotta keep up the killin’ now, do I?” He asks, on his way out to get driven back next door.

“Wouldn’t imagine.” Drayton is the only one out here yet while Nubbins runs around like a madman packing back up a bag of toys he’d scattered all around, forgetting Franklin wouldn’t get to stay forever.

“And I’m allowed to go home?” Franklin keeps asking, sounding feeble and scared.

This time he gets a scoff, like he should find that obvious, “Don’t do kidnappin’. Never let the boys keep one longer than a single night. After that- Lights out.”

One more, “And you really won’t hurt my family?”

“Not the girl, anyhow. No promises on your old man.” Drayton cackles, downright, like some kind of witch.

Franklin knows the bastard ain’t kind, certainly not to his own uncle Lefty or his wife, or actually his kids now that he thinks about it, but he’s not sure his Daddy deserves death over that. “That ain’t funny.”

“Wasn’t joking.” The oldest Sawyer assures him, cold smile dropping away again. ��Siblings, they mean a lot more to the heart. You’ll understand that someday way I do.”

He extinguishes the cigarette he’d been smoking right in Franklins face by crushing it against a window sill, “That’s your little sister an’ I’ll respect it. Not a hair outta place on little Sally’s head.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“In exchange for that you keep your damn yap shut.”

Eagerly, to show he ain’t gonna two time, Franklin nods his head, “Yes sir! This stays between me and y’all and the Lord.”

He gets a disgruntled comment under Drayton’s breath that he doesn’t even hear, “Shit, you’re jus’ like your uncle, boy.”

His faith been tested today, but he oughta lean into it while he can. Keep himself from goin’ completely off the edge. Somehow the Sawyers seem to have managed that much, though, like Drayton said, they’ve got each other. God is so far away, nothin’ at all like a sibling he can hate or hold in his arms, depending on the day.

God severs the spine of a little baby and leaves him to die with prayers and prayers from his family that never quite reached him. Little babies grow up into boys in wheelchairs, who can’t even eat a handful of sweet berries without his body threatening to give up on him. Grow into killers, given the right support. Ain’t gotta let himself lose now.

Drayton seems to hear all that thinkin’ somehow, some twisted way of his, and goes back on his word on the truck drive. He waves Franklin away, “Go on and get. Nubbins’ll get ya back home. Tell ‘em I needed your help handin’ me tools down the station and lost track of time. They’ll believe that.”

A test of will or an alibi, he ain’t quite sure, but he nods his head. Just one thing he’s worried about, “If they don’t?”

“You tell me. We’ll do what needs done.” Drayton says it like it’s simple, and clenches one hand, bringing it up in the air and then back down. Franklin realizes he’s miming stabbing someone or beatin’ ‘em with a hammer.

“Um… Thank you Mr. Drayton. For not killing me too.” They both flinch when Nubbins finally slams the door open so hard it clatters against the wall, earning him a quick slap before they can continue on their way. “Um. Goodnight, sir.”

Halfway down the trail, Nubbins glances back at the shrinking house light.

“You scared of big brother, a-ain’t ya?”

“A little.” Franklin confesses.

Makes him a little sad when Nubbins whispers, “Me t-too..”

It’s them two that’re bonded. Theres bad on both sides, from a rotten temperament to a lack of care, to stuck up Sally and mean old Drayton. His home is with his best friend, in his heart, just as Sawyer as any of the others. That’s his comfort for a long time, knowing he’s capable, got backup when he needs it, and a dead body under his belt. Ain’t no invalid.

#tcmfanevent #tcmdisabilityweek #my writing #my fic #tcm fanfic #nubbins sawyer #franklin hardesty #franklin hardesty x nubbins sawyer #franknub #drayton sawyer #bubba sawyer #in this au franklin and nubbins are only like 13-14 #the title is a line from flesh and blood by Johnny cash which is a huge inspiration for this fic and franknub for me in general

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hoperays-song · 3 months ago

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Named Businesses/Brands in the Sing Franchise: Sing 1

In a recent rewatch of the movies, I tried to find all the named businesses and brands that are in the movies for world building sake (minus bands and entertainment acts cause thats a different list). So here is, in semi chronological order, all the ones that appear in the first movie!

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The Moon Theatre - The primary location of the first movie and starting location of the second.

State of Calatonia Theatre School - An institute of higher education that appeared on a certificate on Buster's office wall.

State of Calatonia University - An institute of higher education that appeared on a diploma on Buster's office wall.

The Modern Drama Institute - An institute of higher education that appeared on a diploma on Buster's office wall.

Bacapti Transport - A store we see Buster bike past.

Grand Store - A store we see Buster bike past, as well as the gang drive past in the city.

Harry's Bar - Harry's restaurant where Ash and Lance performed.

Franklin School of Music - An institute of higher education that Mike claims to have previously studied at.

Les Calmars - A very formal restaurant that we see numerous times through out the first movie, supposedly French cuisine by Buster speaking French to a waiter as well as the name of the restaurant being in French.

SN Eyewear - A brand advertising on the metro line station Ash and Lance were at.

Repair Services Garage/Garage - It is not clear whether or not the garage run by Johnny's family even uses either name, however, that is the wording printed on the building were a name would be.

Gas Station - It is not clear whether or not the gas station has a different name, however, there isn't one on the building's sign so I'm running with this.

Big Kitchen - The brand name of the stove hood in Meena's kitchen.

Rumble Bag - The brand name on the speed bag we see both Marcus and Johnny using in the first movie.

Laundromat - A business to the left of Ash's first apartment, appears to only use the first floor.

Paradise Hotel - A business to the right of Ash's first apartment.

Moon Car Wash - The car wash that Buster's father owned.

Gummlies - A 24 hour store that Ash's first apartment is over. This name does not match the name on the store's shade covering but the first word of that is illegible, and only "Grocery Store" can be read.

Pop Soda - The brand of soda we see in Ash's first apartment, in the flavour orange. We also see it in the pool house in the same flavour.

SCRUN-EEZ - The type of cereal we see Rosita's kids eating and again at the store.

City Store - The store to the left of Moon Theatre. It appears to sell jewelry.

Wholesale Supply - One of the neighboring warehouses to the garage. There is another one on a different street as well as well as where the gang got arrested.

Linais & Badoil - The brand of piano that Johnny and Mrs. Crawly play in the Moon Theatre.

Dodgson - The brand of speakers in Ash's first apartment.

Roc's - The grocery store that Rosita went to during the movie.

Sliced Potatoes - A brand of chips seen in the grocery store that appears to have around six flavours.

Fruity Light - A cereal we see at the grocery store.

Flaky Wheat - A cereal we see at the grocery store.

Bran Cereals - A cereal we see at the grocery store.

Muesli - A cereal we see at the grocery store.

Colorful Crisp! - A cereal we see at the grocery store.

Corn Flakes - A cereal we see at the grocery store with a fox mascot.

Choco Chuncs - A cereal we see at the grocery store.

Honey Sirop - A cereal we see at the grocery store.

Mixed Cereals - A cereal we see at the grocery store.

Fiber Breakfast - A cereal we see at the grocery store in Rosita's cart.

Cookies Mint - A type of a brand of cookies we see at the grocery store.

Cookies Choco - A type of a brand of cookies we see at the grocery store.

Cookies Strawberry - A type of a brand of cookies we see in Rosita's cart.

Spring Water Sourceful - A brand of spring water at the grocery store in Rosita's cart.

Animal Gazette - The newspaper we see Johnny reading.

Dusty's - An establishment across from the Moon Theatre.

SFJ Bank - The bank Judith works for and owned the theatre for awhile.

Eyewitness News - A news channel we see in both movies.

Calatonia University - An institute of higher education that appeared on the shirt of Eddie's that Buster wears in the pool house.

Parrot Herald - A news paper Buster reads in the pool house and is likely affiliated with the other news channel in the movie due to their paper being used in the ending broadcast.

Blip's Bowling Lounge and Bar - An establishment we see behind the new Moon Car Wash.

The Diga Doo - A restaurant we see behind the new Moon Car Wash.

Tabatha's Market - A market we see behind the new Moon Car Wash that advertises fresh foods.

#sing #sing 2016 #worldbuilding #i planned on putting both movies together with photos but tumblr would not let me. there was so much stuff #so here you go #there's probably a ton more but my screen quality is terrible lol #but you can find photos of all of these on fancaps.net!#also in the store it mentions cheese on a sign. as well as ice cream. the milk in rositas kitchen is almond too so maybe its all plant mad #but yeah did not notice that before

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wispvial · 11 months ago

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Day 7- It's a Nice picture!

for @texas-chainsaw-fanworks , i would have liked to participate in this more but couldnt, but heres a quick lil story :] cw violence ig

FRANKLIN AND NUBBINS ENJOY THE SUNSET

Thick, cloudy, honey-colored streaks captured the glow of the descending sun. The two men, noticing the sky from the window, like the surface of a far-off planet, stopped in their tracks to bask in the yard.

“It’s beyond words, man,” said Franklin.

He wanted to cry at the sight of it. He had many reasons to. His heart swelled with a terrible wonder; he turned his head, and spat on the ground.

“My grandfather spent his last years out here. In the middle of nowhere, alone; he stopped reaching out to us, and my parents let him be. He died and his house turned to goddamn ruins ‘cause we never came by to check. I wonder why it was so easy. To just leave him.”

The nearby magnolia tree rustled as black birds poured out of it, under the golden dome of the sky resembling a cloud of noisome insects.

“But I get it. Why he refused us, why to him, it was worth it. It wouldn’t be so bad to die out here, seeing this sunset.”

And here he was.

Regretting his choice of words, he fidgeted.

What was he doing out here? He had made a friend, that man now standing behind him, stroking the back of his neck, watching the sunset with him, and to end the story there would be for the best.

And if, perhaps, the story ended for him, as maybe, he thought, might be deserved, and the man reached in his pockets, and pulled out the razor, and wordlessly brought the keen edge to his throat… He imagined a quick slash, the vessels of his neck emptying out on the ground, face down in the puddle, redder than the sunset, prettier than it to the man who would crouch over him.

But the hitchhiker giggled, oblivious to his spiraling train of thought. He had taken such natural beauty for granted and was glad to be reminded, was glad to pull away from his work to marvel at it with his friend.

“I-It’s real pretty, huh? I know. I’ll take a picture. And…I-I won’t charge you none.”

“You better not.” He sighed. The crumpled dollar bills in the jeans he came with were long gone. Reassured, Franklin took an unhurried swig of his warm soda pop. It was a weekly treat for the Sawyers, and the hitchhiker, disinterested, had given the bottle to him.

“Man, even the bottle looks pretty in this light. Look at that. Everything does.”

He thought if he turned around, the hitchhiker might look prettier to him than he would have liked. But wanting to see his friend’s crooked grin, and share in his pleasure, he—

SNAP! went the wicked camera shutter.

“Hehe.”

“Hey! You took MY picture!”

----

The bright blue of day, the golden sunset, the stars at night. It didn’t matter what he did. It didn’t matter if he was bad. As long as he lived, he would enjoy each gift given to him.

Inside the house, the bound victims writhed with chafed wrists against their restraints. It was the last sunset they would ever see—in fragments—slats of orange light on the bloody wooden floor.

#tcmfanevent #if i ever rewrite and recycle this in my fanfic no i didnt #long post #tcm #franknub #franklin hardesty

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morbidology · 1 year ago

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Between 1927 and 1931, Maoma Ridings worked as a physical therapist in Georgia; one of her patients was Franklin Roosevelt. A decade later, Ridings was serving as a corporal in the Woman’s Army Corps and was stationed at Camp Atterbury, Indiana.

On 29 August, 1943, Maoma left her work and made her way to Indianapolis, picked up a bottle of whiskey, and checked in at Claypool Hotel, a hotel she had stayed a number of times with other Woman’s Army Corps. However, this time she was alone and allegedly had a date planned for that night. She was given a key to Room 729.

In the late afternoon, bellboy Alfred Bayne Jr. delivered a couple of bottles of soda and ice to the room, reporting that Maoma wasn’t alone - there was a mysterious woman dressed in all black sitting on the bed. Bayne thought nothing of it and left.

The following morning, cleaning staff entered Room 729 and were horrified to discover the naked body of Maoma on the bed - she had been slashed to death with the whiskey bottle she had purchased the previous day. It was theorised that the killer slashed Maoma's wrists and arms in an attempt to make her murder look like a suicide. However, the autopsy revealed that she had been bludgeoned on the head before being slashed.

The killer was never caught and the mysterious woman in black was never identified.

#true crime #unsolved #cold case #mystery

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avastrasposts · 11 months ago

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BTS - The Pilot and his Girl

I was talking to some mutuals, who also write darker themes, about what we google and I realised readers probably don’t know about the amount of ridiculous research we sometimes put into tiny details in stories. And the ridiculous details we google!

The Pilot and his Girl covered a lot of darker topics, PTSD, drug abuse and withdrawal, handling grief and trauma among other things. But it also included details about guns, military insignia and markers, Boston weather, Wyoming weather, geographical markers and local flora and fauna. And I did A LOT of googling to cover all the details.

More below the cut if you’re curious, but my personal favourite was when Google gave me a warning banner about drug addiction, assuring me there was help to be had and here’s a list of local resources. I was only trying to figure out what withdrawals Frankie would go through as he came down off his addiction…

So I did a fair bit of googling before the outbreak even happened, including the fish Denny catches in the lake on the fourth of July. It’s a fish that lives pretty much all over North America so I didn’t need to specify the state. Had I known that The Pilot would grow into a 300´000+ word fic I would’ve outlined where they lived and how they travelled in more detail in the beginning.

In the fic they live in Arlington, but that’s not mentioned until after the outbreak and although they are somewhere in the south, where, is never specified. Arlington became their hometown simply because it’s the third most common place name in the US, Franklin being the most common (hence the name of the first QZ…). And Washington Park, where Frankie thinks he kills a man in the early hours of the outbreak, is the second most common place name.

In one of the earlier chapters Frankie’s PTSD flares up in a bad way after his girlfriend is shot. I, thankfully, have no experience with PTSD so I read up and found good resources online from both treatment centres and stories from people who had suffered from PTSD, especially military veterans. So I put all of that into my writing and received the ultimate comment when one of my readers asked if I worked with PTSD patients because they had experience of it and they thought I had written Frankie’s episode so well. That made me so happy because capturing what he goes through well was important to me because it’s a major theme in the fic.

A small detail readers probably missed are the signs Pope and Frankie leave for each other as they travel from the cabin in Lucía’s town. I don’t know why, but I was adamant about them being correct and spent way too much time looking up what signs special ops soldiers would use. So go ahead, look them up, I can guarantee that they’re correct!

Oh and their guns? Yeah, it’s not a coincidence that Frankie picks up a Glock when he enters the looted gun shop. It’s one of their preferred handguns.

After Pope, Benny, Frankie and his girl leave the Arlington QZ and head to New York they have to cross the Appalachian mountains. And the trail they’re on exists, as does the bridge they’re on when they’re attacked and capture Morrow, their guide. The shop they get to as they go through Hoboken, Hoboken Beer & Soda Outlet, is a real place, as is of course, Sinatra Park. And as they travel further north, from New York, up to Boston, you can follow the path they take, first the ship from Orchard Park up to Nonquitt Bay and up past the USS Massachusetts, and through the Boston suburbs. I love geography and I had to make it real, at least for myself!

Boston winters are harsh, I already knew that, so I had to figure out the timeline of spring potentially arriving and work out when Frankie and his girl could leave after Pope dies. Frankie’s addiction and withdrawals took a lot of googling, as did figuring out what drugs/medicines would still be actually usable. There’s a mention of antibiotics being good for years after their expiration date and this is also true, stored correctly they don’t lose their effect.

And once they left, I googled my way across the midwest and marvelled at how FLAT and STRAIGHT those states are! My mind was blown and I spent way too much time using Google Street view to just click my way across Nebraska. I used a lot of those images to describe the landscape that they travelled through, both by car and on foot, and how it changes as you get closer to the Rockies. And of course I googled the climate for that valley that Jackson is in and how a hydroelectric plant works but please forgive me, that is NOT how you repair one. Major artistic licence was taken to make that scene readable….

The one MAJOR deviation from facts I had to make was petrol. But as the same deviation is made in both the game and tv-show I let it slide. In reality, they wouldn’t be able to drive the cars with petrol that had been sitting other cars out in the open. Petrol breaks down very fast, even after a month in a car it’s lost a lot of its quality. After a year it starts clogging the car. Twenty years? No way…. The thing is, in the apocalypse, bicycles are what you need!

But despite all that googling I did, someone did point out (in the nicest possible way) one mistake that I made. In the early days in Jackson baby Jack is fed honey because I figured it would be the one sweetener they would potentially have on hand. But apparently, honey shouldn’t be given to children under the age of one… But I have no kids so the thought didn’t even occur to me that he shouldn’t be eating it. But now I know and I don’t think I’ll ever forget because it will always make me think of baby Jack and Frankie!

If you’ve read this far, I hope you’ve enjoyed this little “behind the scenes” bit and if you have any questions, just ask. Funnily enough, most writers love talking about their works. ❤❤❤

#the pilot and his girl #frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #pedro pascal character fanfiction #frankie morales x you #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction

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