#Twenty one pilots blurb

[klinefelterrible]

Me, to the Devil: I wanna play music

Devil: what kind of music

Me: maybe something full on gay?

Devil, rattling his papers: we already have Village Boys and the XX.

Me: what about something like gay but for the straight girls

Devil: as far as I remember correctly we have something called Cigarettes After Sex.

Me: damn it you’re right

Devil: how about something kinda gay

Me: like twenty one pilots?

Devil: you’re right, my bad

Me:

Devil: If you want to have a beef with everyone with your weird vibe you can always, uhm

Me: Azalia Banks

Devil: yup. Wanna be a hoe and make hoe music?

Me: don’t start with all that Iggy Nicki Cardi crowd, I don’t want any of it

Devil: gangsta rap?

Me: no

Devil: if you wanted to make a real music you’d be already doing some metal and cheering the devil up

Me: yeah well maybe one day

Devil: hopefully

Me: I noticed you’re avoiding talking about Weird Al Yankovic

Devil, crossing fingers: We do not talk about God in Hell. Bad mojo

Me: how about straight girl for gay dudes

Devil, mockingly: YASS QUEEN!

Me: yeah too many to choose from

Devil: and at least half of them saint already so

Me: is Lady Gaga a saint?

Devil: well, sort of

Me: what do you mean

Devil: both angels and demons call her Mistress

Me: oh

Devil: yeah you should be here for the Pokerface day which is literally every Thursday

Someone in the background: oh, woah-oh-oh-oh, woah-oh-oh,

Someone else with a raspy soviet accent: I get him high, show him what I got

Devil: OH SHUT THE FUCK UP ALREADY!

Me: mah-mah-mah-maah

Devil: how about my boot in your ass now, hm?

Me: so, uhm… no chances for music career, huh?

Devil: oh now you need to just buy a mac, learn ai and autotune and come back later when you need followers on youtube and views on spotify

Me: can I borrow two grand?

Devil: yeah why the hell not

Me: wait, no contract?

Devil: shit you’re right

Me: can I give you a blowjob instead?

Devil: okay

Two minutes and a lot of gurgling later:

Devil: can I give you a blowjob?

Me: do I have to pay you?

Devil: of course

Me: uhm

Devil: so, a contract?

Me: a contract?

Devil: you didn’t suck my dick for money, did you

Me: actually I did

Devil, handing me $2000: okay so do you wanna another 2k?

Me, kneeling: sure

Devil, giving me a scroll and a quill: oh come on what are you thinking

Me: now? a music career

Devil, rolling eyes: oh shut the fuck up and sign it already

Me: I feel peer pressured, but

Devil: a boot in the ass, then?

Me: and now it’s coercion

Devil: technically it’s a threat of violence

Me: may I remind you that I studied law

Devil: yeah and you sucked my dick before writing a contract so what does it make you

Me: a dreamer

Devil, kicking my ass so hard I got out of hell: name that your band. NEXT!

Me, waking up and not remembering anything but feeling cum in my mouth and my ass hurting, two thousand dollars in my hand: I guess I was in a gangbang…?

[millersfinest]

pluto and charon | e.w

astrophysicist!ellie & aerospace engineer!reader

wc: 4k

blurb: there’s a new planet that formed in the milky way galaxy—and it’s dr. ellie williams’ (and a few research assistant’s) job to prove that life can exist on it. oh, and you’re the second opinion there to back her up and steer the ship (whether she likes you or not). but, when a sector of the shuttle malfunctions, locking the two of you inside… what will two analytical scientist do to fix it? was it a dignified sign from the cosmos?

warnings: nothing much, vulgar language, enemies to lovers (?)

note: ellie loves space, so i wanted to write her as an astronaut—please, enjoy! i haven’t written anything in awhile so…. had to get this off my mind.

⋆·˚ ༘ *

The thick sound of silence and machinery crowded the ears of everyone on board. It had been approximately one hundred and twenty-five earth hours since you have taken off from the ground—to and through the stratosphere. The ship was in autopilot, cruising through the nothingness of the milky way; passing whirling planets and asteroids that shied away from prying eyes.

This wasn’t your first time estranged from earth. It was your second. But there was no feeling like floating in metal that you concocted—stitched together with wires, buttons, and joysticks. You marveled at the large windows that displayed your universe just as enthusiastically as the research assistants on board.

Jackson’s planet was where you were headed. Previously named, J-74.

Through many study sessions and research assignments, it has been theorized that it could withstand human life. Earth’s depletion of resources has been making it difficult to live—for average people. With the atmosphere rapidly thinning, livestock, farming, and health sustainability has been dramatically decreasing.

There needed to be an intervention—and Dr. Williams was the one to jump start it.

You have been working off and on with her since your early years at NASA. Initially, the two of you came in as forthright interns who were too smart for their own good—arguing every chance you got because you both wanted the same thing; to see what space looked like from space. Not from a camera or laptop or extreme telescope.

Eventually, you split into separate fields and concentrations. It was engineering that began to pique your interest. You worked hard to curate materials that could withstand dramatic changes in temperatures and weather. Still studying planets and galaxies, but with a distinct perspective.

The space shuttle was made for damage—only certifying the safety of the mission. There was very little risk traveling to Jackson’s planet.

You couldn’t decipher if it was morning, noon, or night, but you just couldn’t stay asleep. Checking the watch on your wrist you have only been asleep for three hours. How puzzling. Typically, you sleep well in silence and whirring, but it was different this time. The sounds prickled under your skin, pulling you from the absorbing mattress in your sleeping quarters.

Finding your way toward the center of the shuttle, you used a key card to enter each sector. A ziplock of dried fruit was pinched between your fingers—reaching inside every few minutes for a bite. Wanting to estimate time of arrival, you navigated toward the flight deck. A pair of dark sunglasses resting on the bridge of your nose to dim the fluorescent lights.

Shuffling your feet against the floor, you slipped into chair of the pilot seat. There were many screens and buttons before you. All bright in different colors and hues—blinking. However, you focused on the screen that determined the path of the shuttle. It showed the ship following a dotted green line, with the time in the far-right corner. Six hours.

Time of arrival was only a few hours out. You were almost at the very planet you’ve been studying for the past two years. A tired smile stretched onto your lips, leaning back in the cushioned chair.

In the comfort of silence, you watch the celestial bodies minding their own through the three panel windows. Legs folded up, comfortably. You were currently passing Pluto and Charon. There were four other moons of Pluto, but Charon was the largest. And even bigger up close.

The coolest thing about the pair was that they always shared a face. There wasn’t a time where they weren’t looking at each other—scientifically, it was called mutual tidal locking.

“I didn’t think you’d be up…” A raspy voice muttered from behind your chair. She must’ve heard you crunching on your dried raspberries.

Turning around, you noticed her walking toward the co-pilot chair with a yellow notepad in her hands. Her gray NASA jumpsuit was tied around her waist, exposing the white, ribbed tank top she had on. “I couldn’t sleep. Thought I’d kill some time up here.” You responded, watching as she sat down.

“What’s our ETA?” Her green eyes focus on the destination screen.

“Oh-eight hundred— we have six hours left of travel.” You pushed the glasses above your head, eyes glancing at the screen. “Raspberries?” Holding the ziplock toward her, you offered.

Ellie shook her head, clicking the pen in her hands. Pressing your lips together, you shrugged, zipping it tight before placing in the crevice of the chair. She quietly scribbled on the yellow pages—her thick eyebrows knitted together in concentration.

The other moons of Pluto came into your line of sight. They weren’t all close on your path, but Hydra and Nix made a clear appearance. Their shapes were not as circular as Charon; they were like any other moon on any other planet.

She hummed to herself, clicking her pen in thought. “Can you check this equation for me? I’ve been thinking about this since we boarded The Firefly…” Ellie hands the notepad to you. “It’s an estimation of sustainable oxygen and energy— if Jackson’s planet doesn’t provide us with enough… How much can we manually create for it to be habitable?”

It was your turn to hum in thought. Dragging your finger along the inked lines of her equation, you sucked your teeth. The numbers appeared to be correct—Ellie was always good at the math part of theory. “This seems about right, but we can only theorize so much.” You begin. “The only way we can thoroughly verify this equation is by settling on Jackson—running physical tests.” You hand the notepad back to her. “We need specificity, not estimation.”

“I’m just making sure that we’re prepared.” She grumbled.

“We are prepared, Ellie. If we have too many hypotheses, it may confuse our students… Overwhelm them.”

She pressed her lips into a line, averting her eyes toward the three panel windows. You could feel her level of irritation rise, as she adjusted in her seat. The ship was slipping past Pluto and Charon, leaving the bodies in your wake. “Do you have to challenge everything that I say?” Ellie muttered, leaning her chin on her fist with a pinched expression.

You deepened your eyebrows. “I don’t challenge everything you say… You asked for my opinion.”

“On the equation!” She whisper-yelled, pinching the bridge of her nose to calm herself. “Not your opinion on how to teach my students.”

“Our students—“ You corrected, but she abruptly cut you off by standing to her feet.

Scoffing, she ran her fingers through her choppy auburn strands. Rolling your eyes, you watched as she threw an adult tantrum. Ellie’s capacity for managing her emotions has never changed; she’s always been angsty and easily frustrated. “I knew I shouldn’t have listened to him— I should have chosen someone else for this mission.” She tossed her notepad onto a table, shaking her head.

With that, you stand up. Leaning your arm against the back of the pilot seat. “Oh, yeah? Who?” You squinted your eyes, condescendingly. “Jerry the fucking receptionist? So, you can feel intellectually superior enough to feel good about yourself?” Raising an eyebrow, you chortle. “Wow, Dr. Williams… Didn’t know you could stoop so low.”

“Fuck off…” She sucked her teeth, shaking her head, dismissively.

“Gladly!” You snatched the bag of dried fruit from your chair, before stomping toward the sliding mechanical door. Before raising your key card to the receiver, turned toward her one last time. “This isn’t just about your findings. It takes a team's effort for a mission like this to succeed. Challenges foster discovery— even if I’m the one doing it.” You wave your card over the receiver, the door releasing air as it slid open. “See you in few hours…” And back to your sleeping quarters you went.

It was difficult, but you managed to get four extra hours of sleep after that little argument. Typically, bickering with Ellie lasted more than just a few minutes, but you’ve matured—you’d like to think. Times have changed, and you were in space; you were working. There was no time for petty, egotistical arguments. Even so, you couldn’t help but wonder why you ground her gears so bad. Yet, somehow, she was always around you—orbiting you like the beautiful celestial bodies you know and love. Was she stuck in a gravitational pull—unable to flee? Or was she fully conscious?

Two hours until Jackson’s planet arrival!

The automated voice announced over the intercom. Which pulled everyone on board from their own devices—whether that was sleeping or exercising. The classes you and Ellie taught were basically conjoined; two in one. So, each of you had your own research assistant that tagged along on this mission. But they both worked for the both of you— you were their supervisors.

However, for some reason, Ellie’s assistant appeared to be distant from yours. Allan was his name. When everyone met at the breakfast table, there was a quietness in the room that felt unfamiliar. Usually, Allan and Sophia, your assistant, would be filling the room with casual chatter. About their personal lives. This morning was drastically different. Scraping your plastic fork against the plate, playing with your powdered eggs, you glared at Ellie. “Dr. Williams, how old are you again?”

“Dr. Jones, isn’t it disrespectful to ask a woman her age—?”

“Thirty-one, right?” The legs of your chair screeched against floor as you stood up. Taking your plate, you toss the food into the trash bin. Scoffing, you use your key card to leave the eating area. You navigated toward the flight deck to guide the ship the rest of the way. Flicking off the autopilot switch and taking ahold of the joystick. For as long as you’ve known her, you never thought she’d stoop as low as admitting to choosing another for the job.

You’ve never done anything to Ellie for her to be so adamant about being a pain in the ass. Academically, you rivaled each other, but that was it. At least, that’s what you thought.

In the distance you could see the blue-green planet ahead. Looking like the long-lost sister of Earth. You mused at the sight, grinning to yourself. That was what you were here for.

The sound of air puffing from the sliding door leading to the flight deck, caught your attention. For a moment, you thought it was Ellie, but a much softer voice called your name. “Dr. J,”

It was Sophia wandering into the room. “Tense morning, huh?” She raised her slender eyebrows, taking a seat in the copilot chair. You jutted your eyebrows in response. “I thought it’d be more enthusiastic considering we’re almost there…” Her light eyes glanced toward the three-panel window, glimmering with excitement.

“You and me both.” You responded, dryly.

A beat passed between the two of you. Sophia awkwardly rocking in the chair. “I can’t help but ask— what’s going on between you and Dr. Williams?” She questioned, softly. “I’ve seen you guys' bicker before but…” She dragged on, hoping you’d respond before she rambled.

You sigh, glancing at her. “We’re just having a disagreement. That’s all.” You swallowed, clenching your jaw. Keeping the relationship between you and your student professional, you change the subject. “We’re nearing Jackson. I suggest you suit up and start taking notes on what you see as we approach. Meaning asteroids, moons— anything.”

“Copy that.” Sophia quickly got up, to leave the flight deck.

Focusing, within the next hour you enter the atmosphere of the planet. The ship shuttering through turbulent clouds and temperatures. The ground resembled the dirt of Mars, just darker and muddier. The ship released stilts to prop itself on the ground of Jackson. With a hopeful sigh, she jumped from her seat. Going to slip into her protective suit and helmet. The whistling of heavy winds sounded against the ship, rocking it slightly.

You met the rest of the group in the airlock. Allan was about to press the button to shut the door into the hall—locking them out with an airtight seal. But Ellie stopped him with a wave of her gloved hand. “Your suits not zipped up all the way. Turn around.” She told you, gesturing with her hand for you to turn. Her voice echoing in your helmet, you do as she says; as it’s a safety concern. But you were still annoyed with her—and you were sure that she was still annoyed with you.

She zipped up the back, latching it with a metal button. Ellie even made sure that your helmet was sealed and secure. You grabbed your pack, swinging it onto your back. Then began locking everything into place with buckles and latches. “Thanks…” You muttered, barely sparing her a glance. “Allan, the door.”

He glanced at Sophia with eyes you couldn’t read, before pressing the button. The airlock sealed, puffs of air releasing from the hinges.

The hatch creaked as it fell open, hitting the ground with a thud. The assistants marveled, stepping toward the threshold. You and Ellie mirroring them, approaching where they stood. The morning sky’s were clear and blue. With the reflection of two, perfectly circular moons in view. Allan turned around, looking at his main supervisor.

“It’s your mission— you should be the first to step foot on it.”

Ellie smiled through her helmet, glancing at you, briefly. You didn’t spare her much of a glance, you just rocked on your feet. She should be lucky she has such supportive students.

“I think its just as much as Dr. Jones’ mission as it is Dr. Williams’.” Sophie spoke up, lifted her eyebrows. “If it weren’t for Dr. J… We wouldn’t have The Firefly; I think they both should go. Together.”

“Holding hands…”

You put your hand up, scrunching your eyebrows. “All right, that’s enough.” Rolling your eyes, you chuckled, dryly. “We can go together… If you don’t mind.”

Ellie shrugged. “It takes a team’s effort to succeed…” She held out her gloved hand.

Sighing, you took her hand. She held onto your gloved hand, gently, pulling you toward the hatch. The wind whistled, nearly blowing the two of you over, but when your feet jumped into the mud—the assistants cheered. “That’s one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind!” Ellie exclaimed, swinging your arm, unintentionally.

You meet her eyes, laughing at the reference. “Be original.” You playfully, jested. Turning back to the team. “Let’s begin our testing— shall we?”

The team was out there for hours with test tubes collecting matter of different forms. You grabbed bites of temperature and took notes of the environment. The assistants diligently worked—doing exactly what they were told. Ellie kept her distance from you, but never forgot to spare you a glance every now and then. Pretending not to notice, you kept to your work. Walking in and out of the shuttle, collecting data. Trying not to mind it one bit.

Fatigue began to rain over everyone—including yourself. Despite your incessant need to prove otherwise. It was reaching twenty-one hundred; it was past their bedtime. Allan and Sophia had grabbed the supplies propped outside, bringing them back into the shuttle. They were the last touch the ground for the evening. But, you and Ellie had been hibernating inside the shuttle running chemical tests on the matter collected.

A makeshift dinner was prepared by the leading astrophysicist as a prized delight. She was proud with how hard everyone worked—giving the pep talk of a lifetime. Her influential words were really meant for your students. You even added a few supportive statements to hers. Applauding their work. Then, eating ensued; chowing down on the blandest food known to mankind.

It was not long before half the crew went to bed. You disappeared into the comms room to film the first scientific update of Jackson’s planet. The sliding door shutting with a smooth sss sound. In your hand, you held a personal vial of the dirt you found. With pieces of rocks and, what you could only assume to be, grass stuffed into the top. White scotch tape labeled the small glass: J-74.

There was a small television screen built into the wall. Touch screen. With a little camera at the top center of the shape. You pressed the screen until the recording option came up. Clearing your throat, you started by saying the date and time, then your name. “We just finished day one on Jackson’s planet— it was a busy day.” You held up the vial of dirt, shaking it around. “But it was well worth it.” A grin stretched across your face.

“The team has loads of research ahead— thank God for Allan and Soph; they’ve already made this trip easier— but the odds are looking up.” You nod, continuing. “Jackson just might be everything that we need for our survival. Just like Dr. Williams anticipated.”

Sss!

The door opened, revealing the auburn-haired academic. “Shit-talking me in the comms room?” Ellie raised an eyebrow as she entered. But, upon noticing your filming, she paused in her steps. Cursing to herself. “Fuck, I’m sorry.” She cursed herself, again, for swearing on company file. Her notepad was glued to her hand—as per usual.

“Speak of the devil and she shall appear.” You chortle after glancing over your shoulder at the woman. “Dr. J, signing off.” Ceasing the recording, you swiveled around in your rolling stool. Ellie wandered around the room with a nervous aura. Bending the notepad back and forth. “I hope you’re not wanting my opinion on another equation… I’m on too much of a high to bicker tonight.”

Ellie chuckled, dryly. “Not this time. I actually wanted to apologize for this morning.” She inhaled, stiffly. “I was unprofessional— you’re the best this team has; I could never replace you—“

“Okay, I get it. Apology accep—“

“Let me finish!” She held up a hand. You blinked with a slightly surprised expression, pursing your lips. “I could never replace you nor would I want to” Ellie paced the floor before you. “And, yes, it was very childish for me to ask Allan to take a vow of silence when communicating with Sophia and you. That was wrong. But, in his defense, he argued me down about it…” She rambled, messing with her hair, notebook, fingers—everything to busy herself.

This may have been the first time that she has ever thoroughly apologized. Usually, the two of you let the frustration from arguments simmer; then, eventually talk to each other. “Where’s Ellie Williams and what have you done with her?” You joked, standing to your feet. She was a nervous person, but never this nervous. “Seriously, it’s fine. No hard feelings— we do this all the time.”

You move to leave the room, pressing your key card against the receiver. That familiar puffing of air doesn’t sound—the door doesn’t open. The light flashes red. Deepening your eyebrows, you try again. Ellie watches you, intently. Her lips parted, wanting to speak. The focus on you breaks when she realizes she can’t leave either. “Let me try.”

She waves her card, and it flashes red. You swear, stepping backwards, in thought. Was it the high winds? When you built The Firefly, you made sure to consider every possibility externally. Did you really forget about the smaller details—like doors? You weren’t the only one working on this contraption, so this issue couldn’t have been on you. “Have there been any complications in any of the other sectors of the shuttle?” You asked.

“Uhm, not that I know of— I haven’t had any problems.”

“So, it’s just this one… Hm.” You hum, feeling the gears of the door. Bracing your hand on the part of the door that opens, you attempt to pry it open with your hands. Grunting, using most of your strength. Sighing, you look at the woman next to you—gawking. “Are gonna stand there or are you gonna help me?” You exhaled. “You must want to be locked in here with me.”

She jumped to action, tossing her notebook aside to try to pry open the door. “To be honest, I’m not complaining…” Ellie muttered to herself. But she was close enough for you to hear.

Abruptly, you stopped pulling. “What?” Your eyebrows deepened, placing your hands on your hips. “What did you just say?” You questioned, gently. Confusion written along the faint fine lines across your face. Ellie pressed her lips into a line, stepping back from the door as well.

“I have a confession.”

“A confession? Am I being punked?”

She crossed her arms. “Do you seriously think I’m incapable of being nice to you?”

You shrugged, pursing your lips. “For longer than ten minutes… Yeah, I find it a little hard to believe.” Ellie scoffed, dropping her hands at her side. She began to pace, again, but in a different way. Leaving a trail of frustration and irritation in her path. “Ellie, we’ve been butting heads since we met. Excuse me for being a little surprised at the word confession.”

The scientist looked over her shoulder, partially glaring. “Did you ever consider why we bump heads so much?”

You cleared your throat, awkwardly. “Uhm, you hate that I’m smarter than you.” You chortle, but she doesn’t laugh. “Kidding.”

Swiveling around, her freckled cheeks were as red as a tomato. “Ellie, I’m kidding.” You tried, approaching her slowly, remorsefully. You’ve never seen her this way before. Her foresty eyes were glistening and wide like she wanted to cry. Placing a hand on her bare arm, you felt her muscles flinch. “You’re probably the only person at work that actually meets my intellect— maybe even exceeds it at times.”

“Pluto and Charon.” Ellie mumbles, examining your features. Overthinking the feeling of your hand on her bicep.

“What about them?”

“Do you think Pluto always noticed Charon?”

You thoughtfully averted your eyes, but your fingers remained against her warm skin. “She’s so large, I doubt Pluto didn’t always notice Charon. How could she miss her? I mean, they share a face.”

A beat passed between the two of you, leaving room for you to finally understand. Were you that stupid? The most remarkable thing about you was your intellect. So, you wondered, how this could slip by so easily? Ellie had to frame her words in a way that you’d understand. Astronomy.

“Oh.” Your hand drifted up her arm, over her bones shoulder, resting lightly over her trapezius. “Ellie… You have a thing for me?”

She tries to brush your hand off her skin because she was beginning to feel claustrophobic. But, you resist, taking her other hand in yours. Perhaps, you never fully thought about it—drowning yourself in your work. However, when you do think about it, you loved working with her. Even if that meant arguing and bickering every few minutes. At least you got to be around her; seeing her pretty freckled face for hours at a time. Watching her eyebrows twitch in thought as she solved equations.

“Don’t shy away from me now.” Your hand reached to cup her cheek; drawing comforting lines across her skin. Pluto always noticed Charon. It was natural for them to be in each others orbit—stuck like glue.

Despite her nerves, Ellie’s hands found solace at your hips before she leaned in for your lips. You pushed your body against hers, wrapping your arms around her neck; somehow wanting her closer. Her lips were soft and slow moving against yours—melting with passion and warmth. You could tell that she yearned for you, unlocking a part of you that yearned for her. Slowly, the kiss intensified. Ellie’s hands clenched at your tank top, slipping her fingers under the hem.

While your skin was being set aflame by her touch, you pulled away. Eyeing her with glimmers of lust in your irises. “This is great, uhm, but we’re still stuck in the comms room…” Your brushed hair from her face. “I don’t want the entirety of Houston to see or hear what we’re doing.”

“We’re not doing anything…” She smirked, keeping your hips flush to hers.

“Right.” You grin. “Let’s wake the assistants.”

The two of you separated, hesitantly. Ellie reached for the intercom button, but when you both heard giggling from the other side of the door—all movements ceased.

“Those little assholes.”

The cosmos.

[planetpiastri]

ooo can you do 10 with hangman please??

anon this request grabbed me by the hair and threw me down the stairs and when i got up this blurb existed. i am merely a vessel here. i hope u enjoy!

10. sitting next to each other at their mutual friend’s wedding

word count: 2k

“You’re late,” hummed Mickey under his breath as you brushed past him, heading out towards the lawn.

“But they haven’t started playing music, so I’m not that late,” you shot back, pausing to catch your breath and scan the crowd sitting on the folded chairs spread across the greenery. “Which is Rooster’s side?”

“Left,” he said with a jerk of his chin, “but it’s not like you really have any other options. You’re on the end there.”

“Thanks,” you said, giving him a quick squeeze on the arm. “You’re the best usher ever. It’s good to see you.”

“Hurry up!” he chuckled, but you’d already started moving again. You tried not to focus on the fact that the one open seat was on the aisle towards the front, which meant everyone seated got to stare at you as you walked down the aisle. Instead you made eye contact with Rooster, standing under the white archway in his tux, and waved excitedly.

He very obviously stifled a laugh and shook his head in mock disapproval, mouthing, You’re late. 

Sorry, you mouthed back, quickly taking your seat and nearly colliding with your seat neighbor. Jeez, these seats were tiny.

“Well, hello,” said your seat neighbor, immediately stopping whatever conversation he was having and turning to give you a very obvious once-over.

Fighting the urge to roll your eyes, you turned and did the same to him—and immediately wished you hadn’t. Oh, shit. This guy was cute. He was broad-shouldered, with a strong jaw and bright green eyes. His blond hair was neatly smoothed back for the occasion, and he was dressed in a nice dress shirt suit jacket that seemed to be straining at the seams. There was a half-cocked smirk resting on his lips as he looked you over, and you felt your own jaw clench as your eyes met his.

“Hi,” you said.

“You know, you’re late,” he told you as if you were old friends.

“No kidding. I thought the ceremony started at—” you checked your phone, “three-twenty-four. That’s a normal time for weddings to start, right?”

He chuckled, but it sounded more like a scoff. He jerked his chin up towards the archway where Rooster was standing, fiddling with his hands nervously. “Which are you here for? Bride or groom?”

“I’m sitting on the groom’s side, aren’t I?” you shot back.

He fixed you with a look that made you freeze in place. “I wasn’t aware you had many options.”

Your cheeks started to warm, but you fought it back and cleared your throat, blinking and tearing your eyes away. What was that accent? It was faint, just barely there—Texan, maybe? “Me and Rooster are old friends. High school.”

“No kidding,” said your seat neighbor, throwing his elbow up against the tiny back of his folding chair. “He’s never mentioned you.”

“You don’t know me,” you reminded him.

“Jake,” he said quickly, holding out his hand. “I’m an old piloting buddy of Bradshaw’s.”

After a moment, you shook his hand and introduced yourself. 

“There,” said Jake. “Now I know you. And now I know for sure that he never mentioned you.”

“Well, he never mentioned you, either,” you said.

Jake laughed, and you were oddly pleased to be the inspiration of such a noise. “You know just how to cut a man deep, don’t you?”

“It’s a talent,” you admitted with a sly smile.

A dimple on Jake’s cheek twinkled as he gave you an appraising sort of look that went on for several seconds longer than might have been appropriate. Then he stretched out, saying, “So, old high school buddies, huh? What’s the deal there? Childhood sweethearts? Best friends who always wanted more?”

“No,” you said sternly, shooting him a glare.

“What?” he shrugged, laughing. “I’m just saying. Someone pretty as you—there’s no way Bradshaw’s never thought about it.”

As you scoffed and adjusted your outfit, feeling quite flustered, the bride’s entrance music began to play. Everyone shifted in their seats except for Jake, who kept looking right at you, pinning you with that green gaze. You finally said, “You’re extremely presumptuous, Jake. No wonder Rooster never mentioned you; you’re exactly the type of piloting buddy he would have told me to stay away from.”

“Bingo,” said Jake. “Best friends who always wanted more. I knew it.”

“That’s not—!”

“Ssh,” he interrupted, pressing a finger to his lips. Behind it, his mouth curled into a teasing smirk. “It’s rude to talk while the bride is making her entrance.”

Part of you wanted to wring his neck; another part of you was sure he could hear the way your heart was pounding in your chest, an excited, flirtatious flush coursing through your body as he watched you. But you maintained your composure and turned primly in your seat, turning to watch as Rooster’s wife-to-be slowly and elegantly made her way down the aisle.

The ceremony was lovely and beautiful, just as you knew it would be. Rooster had asked Maverick to officiate, something you knew meant a great deal to Rooster and probably more to the old captain. When it came to the reciting of the vows, you were fairly certain there wasn’t a dry eye in the house; even aloof, stoic Jake next to you dropped his cocky smirk, and you caught him subtly dabbing at his eyes once or twice when he thought no one noticed.

Once the reception began, you didn’t hang around to let Jake get under your skin anymore. It was wild to you just how quickly he’d figured out what buttons to push that made you squirm, and you didn’t want to give him any more opportunities to learn anything else about what made you tick. Instead, you rushed to find Rooster as soon as you could, throwing your arms around him and giving him a congratulatory kiss on the cheek before doing the same to his bride.

The hours plodded on, and soon everyone was at least three drinks in—or, as Mickey liked to say, the wedding had actually started. You split your time between dancing with him and dancing with Natasha, and you used slow dances as an opportunity to return to the bar and rest your feet for a bit.

You were nursing a tequila sunrise at the bar when you remembered the man from the ceremony. Come to think of it, you’d seen him on the floor a couple times, dancing with a bridesmaid or a couple of his bro-ey friends, but he hadn’t said a word to you. And why would he? Why were you still thinking about him? He was obviously just a flirt; he’d probably gotten under the skin of half the bridal party tonight.

“Stupid,” you muttered to yourself, stabbing your straw through the cherry in your drink.

“Whoa,” said a voice at your shoulder. “What’d that cherry do to you?”

“Jake!” you gasped, whirling around to see him leaning casually against the bar right next to you. His hair was tousled and his tie was loosened, the top three buttons of his dress shirt undone and exposing a sizable stretch of muscled, tan chest. His eyes were shining, and his cheeks were rosy. In short, he looked about as tipsy as you felt.

“Why haven’t I seen you all night?” he asked, shifting a little closer. 

“Trust me,” you said, “I’ve been around. You’ve just been busy, is all.”

His eyes lit up and he beamed. “Have you been keeping track of me?”

Fuck. “No.” You wiggled on your stool, moving out of his personal space to try and clear your head. You waved your hand in his direction. “You’re just very…noticeable.” Fuck, fuck, fuck, that’s not better! 

“You know, I’ve been told that before,” said Jake smoothly, accepting his whiskey from the bartender with a cool nod and taking a long drink, watching you over the rim of the glass. He motioned towards the cocktail in your hand. “Has this been your night, then? Drowning your sorrows at the bar because your best friend just married someone else?”

“Oh, my god, no!” You laughed, shaking your head. “Would you quit it with this ‘I’m-in-love-with-Bradley’ line?”

Jake held up his hands in a ‘don’t shoot the messenger’ position. “You said the thing about him not wanting to introduce us, not me.”

“That is not what I said.”

Before you could argue more, Jake leaned in close—so close your breath caught in your throat and you felt yourself paralyzed by those green eyes again. He smelled like whiskey, but it worked for him. He said, “D’you wanna dance with me?”

"Are you hitting on me?” you asked.

"I was hoping you’d pick up on that,” he said.

You coughed, taking a long sip from your cocktail before shrugging. “Okay.”

He downed the last of his whiskey in one gulp, which was an impressive feat since he probably still had two fingers left in the glass. Then he grabbed your drink out of your hand and placed it on the bar before leading you by the arm to the dance floor, where they were playing some classic love song—Here Comes My Girl by Tom Petty, you thought. One of his hands splayed firmly across your waist, and a swarm of butterflies burst into life in your stomach, but you tried to play it cool.

“When’s the last time you danced?” he asked, the judgment in his tone clear.

“I’ve had a lot to drink tonight,” you muttered, staring at your feet in concentration. “Gimme a minute.”

But a strong pair of fingers caught your chin, lifting your head till you had no choice but to look Jake square in the eyes. You were positive he could hear your heart pounding, sure he caught the way your breath hitched at the touch. But he just smiled, using the hand on your waist to help sway you to the music and said, “Don’t think. Just do.”

“You are unbelievable,” you heard yourself say.

“I get that a lot,” he replied.

You rolled your eyes and allowed him to lead you in a close, swaying dance, trying not to focus on the lyrics too much. Or on the fact that his cologne smelled really good, especially mixed with the whiskey. Or on his fingers at the base of your spine, or the way his other hand had twined your fingers together nonchalantly, like it was the most casual thing in the world.

You started talking before you could think twice about what it was you were saying. “Before, when I said you’re the type of guy Rooster would have warned me to stay away from, I didn’t mean it’s ‘cause he was protective of me, or there was history there, or anything like that.”

“Oh really?” His voice rumbled in his chest, reverberating through you. God, he made it hard to focus.

“Uh-huh,” you said.

“Well, then what would the reason have been?” He squeezed your hand, his lips so close to your ear that you could feel his breath on the side of your face.

You swallowed. “Because he knew you were exactly the type of guy I would have gone for.”

You felt more than saw Jake’s smile. “Is that so?”

“And you’d break my heart,” you went on, “and Rooster’d have to pick up the pieces.”

Jake didn’t have a snarky report ready for that. He kept swaying you, but it felt a little less self-assured now, a little more cautious, and strangely, more intimate. You let your eyes fall shut, trusting him not to let you fall, and enjoyed the feeling of being wrapped in his arms, dancing to a classic Tom Petty tune at your mutual friend’s wedding.

“So what now?” Jake asked finally, drawing you back into the moment.

You blinked your eyes open and pulled just far enough away so you could look him in his eyes. “I don’t know,” you said softly, allowing yourself a tiny smirk. “Are you gonna break my heart, Jake?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted softly, and you were surprised to see the confident facade had fallen away. It must have been the booze, you thought. It had to be the booze.

His eyes darted down to your lips before moving back up.

You really did smile then, wrapping both of your arms around his neck so that he could hold you fully by the waist. “Guess there’s just one way to find out,” you teased lightly. 

His stare was hot and intense, sending shivers up and down your spine. “Do you want to get out of here?” asked Jake.

You threw your head back and laughed before settling in his arms, resting your head on his chest. His arms tightened around you, and you said, “Let’s finish the song first.”

And you did.

[alltimefail]

I promise I will only make one post about this in our tag, but I know there are several Twenty One Pilots fans in the Dead Boy Detectives fandom, so I wanted to reach out and ask you guys for some solidarity! Could you guys take a second and sign our petition as a way to support a piece of queer/LGBTQ+ art that was canceled and under-marketed by Netflix?

We're fighting hard to save it, to get justice for the cast and crew, and every signature helps. We're nearly at 20,000 signatures!!

This show is LGBTQ+ affirming, it's diverse, and it's poignant in how it addresses mental illness, trauma, self-hate, bullying/targeted hate, family issues, repression, shame, among other themes that many of us Clique members understand all too well.

Also, for the record, if you haven't watched it I can't recommend it enough. It's seriously my favorite show at the moment and the actor who played one of the main boys in Dead Boy Detectives actually had a handful of Twenty One Pilots songs on his inspo playlist for his character! 😭💜

ANYWAY, thanks for listening to my little blurb, and thank you in advance if you help us out. I appreciate you all!

[waklman]

hey! It’s my birthday today! I was wondering if you could write a small blurb about Bradley doing something special for babybear on her birthday? No worries if you aren’t able to! I love the series! <3

Birthday Suit

first off, happy freaking birthday!!!!! of course i’ll write something for you!!!! thank you for enjoying my series, i have on my party hat for you right as we speak B) i wanted to get this posted on the day of your birthday so sorry if it’s not as polished >.> (also maybe because i wrote this on the shaky bus..so that too haha)

warnings: fluff, 18+ blog in general, minors dni.

word count: 900

something ‘bout you masterlist.

“Shit–she’s not here yet, right?” Bradley asks frantically, nudging the door open with his foot—hands clumsy handling a cake.

He’s yet to look up from the very costly decorated birthday cake, trying to balance it with sweaty fingers. You’ve been raving over the local bakery’s designs lately—showing Bradley their custom made desserts to an endless degree.

Which only meant that—he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he didn’t splurge on a cake. Especially one that was shaped like the head of a bear. When he finally arrived at the bakery for pickup, in his scramble to show up on time—Bradley couldn’t even be mad that one of the bear’s eyeballs were slipping off the edge, because you’d like it.

It would make you laugh, and that’s all Bradley needed to know before stuffing a fat twenty dollar bill in the tip jar—rendering the teenage girl at the register speechless.

As he sets the cake down, Bradley stretches his neck to face the group of usually chatty aviators surrounding the kitchen island.

His eyes are already narrowed into slits, staring at them through his eyebrows with a warning look.

There’s only silence between him and the group, who all have their mouths parted in shock. Hangman’s mouth is parted the widest, making the paper party horn slip from his teeth—which annoys Bradley even more.

Bob is the only one who can’t face Bradley, blinking down at the cake nervously—trying his hardest to ignore his choice of apparel.

“Don’t say a thing,” he grits, watching Jake collect his thoughts, lips puckering together—a clear sign that he does in fact—has something to say.

To no one’s surprise, he’s the first to speak up. “What the—What the fuck is on your face?” Jake sputters, lips curling inside his mouth to let out a hideous laugh.

He says exactly what everyone’s thinking, causing most of the pilots to double over in laughter. Though some of them—well just Coyote, accidentally spits up in his own hand, from holding in his amusement.

“What the fuck is on his face?!” Natasha yells the question at Jake. “Don’t you mean—What the fuck is he wearing?” Natasha puts forth, tugging on the pink tutu around his waist.

“Hey. Hands off woman, this took forever to put on.” Bradley grunts, turning his hip away from her hands.

It’s not like Bradley isn’t aware of how ridiculous he looks. There’s a full shaving cream beard ringing around his mouth for God's sake. Not to mention the bright pink tulle around his jeans—paired with a matching princess tiara sitting on his curls, of course.

He’s actually very aware that he looks like he’s been dressed by a group of six year old girls given free reign—also known as the collective who runs your brain. You’d have a hoot at this.

Before anyone else can get another word in—the front door of your apartment jiggles, and Fanboy quickly hushes everyone. The make fun of Rooster convention is put to an end as everyone scatters to a nearby hiding spot. If it’s one thing the group is good at—it’s knowing how to act quickly.

Right as you walk in, you almost fall over from being greeted with loud screams of “Suprise!” and “Happy Birthday!” and even one “I love you more than Rooster!” coming from Hangman.

Clutching your chest, your mouth stretches into a wide smile—heart full of joy at the surprise. “W-What? Oh my god,” you catch sight of Bradley first.

Completely dropping your stuff onto the floor, you go running at the flushed pilot, throwing yourself into his arms. Bradley stumbles back with a shy look on his face, “How do I look honey?”

You place a searing kiss to his mouth, letting the shaving cream stamp your own face—matching Bradley. “So freaking cute, I love the tiara,” you laugh, taking it for yourself.

Jake’s already starting, “See, I don’t know—it looks fine on her but on Rooster it’s kinda—” Natasha jabs him in the ribs with her elbow, not wanting him to ruin the moment. Jake groans, catching the hint.

Bradley finally drops you, hands still on your waist as you slip back onto the wooden tiles. You get distracted, playing with Bradley’s skirt as he grins down at you, “How’d they get this in your size? I tried checking before but—”

“Ahem.” Payback cuts in, knowing you and Bradley tend to get lost in your own little world.

You both turn to face the noise, and everyone’s surrounding the cake, waiting for you to notice it.

“No. No you didn’t!” You gape, hands coming to your mouth—smearing your new white beard.

Your eyes start to actually well up watching everyone make excited gestures at you—happy that you got your dream cake. Hangman flaps his hands around the cake, with an open smile.

Unable to contain your tears, your fingers stretch over your eyes, covering your face completely. “Baby—wait hey are you crying?” Bradley worriedly leans down, trying to pry your hands off.

You fall foward into his chest, and he catches you. “It’s s’cute. The ugly little eyeball—I can't,” you muffle into your palms.

“Thought you’d like that,” he laughs, glad they’re just happy tears. Placing a kiss onto your hairline, he whispers, “Happy birthday babybear.”

“Babybear!” All the pilots shout in unison, some even tearing up themselves. In a flash, everyone's throwing themselves at you both, turning it into a group hug. Hangman is the last to join, wrapping his arms around everyone, sniffling.

You just cry harder at the sentiment, this is the best birthday ever.

note: as always, thank you for reading and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

tags for this series: @wkndwlff @sammyrenae68 @stark3ys @roosterbruiser @gracelyn-writes @zombiedeathsworld @blueoorchid @averyhotchnerr

join my taglist for this series here or follow @waklman-library and turn on notifs to get notified when i post !

[oldiesstationlover11607]

OMG i just had an idea-

what about tyler x reader where reader is interviewing the boys in honor of their new album !!! the tensionnn, like just imagine EVERYONE notices that theyre totally heart eyes for each other but them and maybe josh pokes some fun at them AH

also!! im the same gal who rec'ed the idea for Cover; you did so good on it!! super excited to read more of your stuff!! :)))

Radio Interview - Tyler Joseph x Reader

Relationship: Tyler Joseph × Reader

Warnings: None - super fluffy

Word Count: 791 - thought this would be perfect for a short blurb type piece so whipped this up in he back of my class lol

A/N: Thanks for enjoying cover! If you're going to be a regular requester I'd love to assign an emoji so I can tell my anons apart. Next time you request just let me know which emoji you'd like to use :)

“Welcome to 47.6 Alt Music Daily! Today, we have Tyler Joseph and Josh Dun from twenty one pilots in the studio to talk about their newest album Vessel! Thanks for coming in, guys,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady as I glanced down to double-check their mics were on. The studio had been buzzing with energy all day, and I'd spent the morning getting ready, listening to their new album on repeat. The excitement of meeting them was something I was barely able to contain.

“Thanks for having us,” Tyler responded, his voice smooth and perfectly on the mic. Most guests struggled with positioning, but not him—his eyes flicked over to mine, and there was something there. A curiosity I couldn't quite place. His sleeves rode up slightly, revealing fresh tattoos snaking up his arms. I'd been thinking of getting my own for months, and the sight stirred a new wave of nerves I hadn’t expected. I made a mental note to ask him about it later. 

I shifted my attention back to my notes. “So, for anyone who doesn’t already know, twenty one pilots is a local Columbus duo who cover a range of genres, including rap, pop, rock, and alternative music.” Tyler nodded as I spoke, his eyes fixed on me with an intensity that made my heart race.

“Sounds about right,” Josh chimed in, breaking the tension with a laugh.

“Okay, so how long have you guys been making music?” I asked, flipping to the next question, though the sudden warmth in my cheeks made it hard to focus.

Tyler looked like he was trying to hold back a smile. “I started when I was 16. Played piano, wrote my first song, and then released a solo album unofficially.”

“Well, I’ve been playing drums since I was about 12,” Josh added. “I’d hang around music stores until closing, playing their kits until I got kicked out.”

“Don’t ask him how many times he’s been kicked out,” Tyler interjected, shooting Josh a teasing look. “He can list every store and the exact date.”

Josh gasped dramatically. “And I’m proud of it!” His grin was infectious, but my eyes were drawn back to Tyler, who was shaking his head with amusement.

I laughed softly, glancing at my notes again. “Okay, so... where does the name ‘twenty one pilots�� come from?” I asked, trying to keep things professional, though my mind kept wandering back to the way Tyler was watching me.

Tyler’s eyes lit up. “Oh, that’s one of my favorite stories. It’s from a play called All My Sons by Arthur Miller.”

“Oh my god, I remember studying that in high school!” I blurted, my excitement bubbling over. Tyler straightened up in his seat, his gaze locking with mine as I continued, “It’s about a father who ran a company that made parts for World War II planes, and he had to decide whether to send out faulty parts.”

“Right! He chooses to send them out, and twenty one pilots die because of it. His son, who was also a pilot, dies in the war, and though it's never confirmed, his daughter blames the father for her brother's death. The guilt leads him to take his own life,” Tyler finished, his voice soft but intense.

It was like no one else was in the room—just the two of us, connecting over this shared memory.

“So, how does it relate to the music?” I asked, resting my chin on my hand, hanging on his every word.

Tyler leaned forward slightly, his eyes locked on mine. “It’s about those moral crossroads we all face. Choosing between what's easy now but could be disastrous later, or making the tough call that’ll pay off in the long run. It’s something we ask ourselves all the time—what’s our purpose? Why are we making music? Right now, it’s simple: we just want to make people think.”

Josh, who had been silently observing, leaned into his mic with a mischievous smirk. “Or, you know, maybe it’s also to impress someone,” he teased, wiggling his eyebrows.

Tyler’s face flushed red as he shot Josh a glare. “That’s not—”

My cheeks burned as Tyler quickly looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. “Uh... so, about that next question?” he stammered, trying to steer the conversation back on track.

I couldn’t help but laugh, the tension breaking just enough for me to finally breathe. “Yeah, we’ll move on... for now,” I added, glancing playfully at Josh.

The rest of the interview flowed smoothly, but that undercurrent of something unspoken remained, hanging between Tyler and me. And as the session wrapped up, I found myself wondering if maybe, just maybe, I wasn’t the only one feeling it.

//

Requests open!

[wontonsoupho]

THE

ARTIVERSE

© Artist the Author

MASTER | LIST

“You are now entering … THE ARTIVERSE!”

“Y’all keep in mind I’m an ARTIST , and I’m sensitive about MY SHIT!”

— ERYKAH BADU (circa 1997 , Tyrone LIVE)

AUTHOR’S NOTE : Hello my favorite heauxs and welcome to the Artiverse! My name is Artist and I am just that — I like to think that my name came with heavy weight and intent that I plan to live up to. This debrief is just to provide you with a warm greeting as you transition from one world into the next. I also want to forewarn you that ALL MY WORK IS RATED MATURE. Again , anything from Artist the Author Production is PROHIBITED FROM MINORS. Everything here in the Artiverse is a pure , original creation — and it is protected under Copyright Law with Artist the Author Production , Amazon , and Wattpad. I’d kindly advise you NOT to plagiarize any content from aesthetics all the way to plots , events , characteristics of any cast members , fictional settings (i.e. made up cities or countries) , people , or lives. Otherwise this could lead to having legal actions proceeded against you. This is a curated master list of all my current ongoing series as well for a select few that debut in the near or distant future. Without further ado , scroll below and immerse yourself into the world that humbly awaits you.

A WORLD FOR THE HEAUXS

(SCREEN-SERIES & SCREENPLAYS)

“You ain’t been NOWHERE until you been to the ARTIVERSE.”

THEN GOD

MADE THEM BLUE

© Artist the Author | 2022

GENRE : URBAN DRAMA / FICTION

LEADS : DAVE EAST (circa 2016-present) X SHANNON THORNTON (circa 2019-present)

BLURB

: Has anyone ever heard of the saying , 'FATE HAS A FUNNY WAY OF WORKING ITS’ SELF OUT?'

On the dreary morning of April 14th , 1999 , sixteen year old Prodigy of The Arts , Goapele Scott was officially declared missing fourty-eighty hours after she was nowhere to be found within her self acclaimed hometown of Macabre , Georgia. Sources say that she was last spotted in a heated disagreement with longtime family friend Georgia State University's Star Basketball Player seventeen year old Xodus Casanova.

The two not only knew each other very well , but also allegedly concocted a plan to run away together which led authorities to believe that the Elite Division I Power Forward had involvement in Goapele's disappearance-however , that could not be any further from the case. Twenty long years , never ending pain , severe strife , and many tears later she mysteriously returns opening Pandora's box.

Two worlds collide after demons from their pasts force them both into a whirlwind of mayhem. Goapele and Xodus were two traumatized souls , but by the power of truth , God made them BLUE.

The question is , will they survive long enough to watch it come into fruition?

TABLE

OF CONTENTS

: SYNOPSIS

: CHARACTER | BREAKDOWN

: FIRST QUARTER | ‘PANDORA’S PALACE’

: PILOT | WHEN THE LEVEES BREAK

: EPISODE 1 | SEEING GHOSTS

: EPISODE 2 | I KNOW WHY THE CAGED ANGELS SANG

SAGE’S

HEEL

© Artist the Author | 2014

GENRE : URBAN THRILLER / EROTICA BDSM

LEADS : AALIYAH HAUGHTON (circa 1999-2001) X DAVE EAST (circa 2018-present)

BLURB

: FAME , MONEY , POWER AND GREED-all things that just don't mix no matter how it's rationed.

Twenty six year old Triple Threat Carolina Kennedy is forced to flee her city after an assassination attempt on her life from a business deal gone bad with her fiancé and his enemies. In hopes of keeping her safe from harm , thirty year old opulent mogul Kazimir Kennedy sends her to stay in Detroit with his longtime friend Hawthorne Amadeus; a former secret service agent and Sergeant Major of the US Army. Far away from her high profile lifestyle and all the flashing lights at the apex of her career , Carolina finds herself experiencing new things under the protection of not only Hawthorne but his wife Sylest Amadeus; a political activist and entrepreneur , and their girlfriend Valerian St. James; a muscian , actress , and aspiring producer.

Having to trust people who are more strangers than anything to her with her life places Carolina into a state of vulnerability she never knew of before , and she begins to build a friendly connection with those who came to her rescue-but is it all just a fatal attachment?

Secrets , Lies , Deceit , & Unfaithfulness are all unearthed behind the walls of The Amadeus household , and much like the truth everything done in the dark arises into the new sun to see the light of day. When Carolina is put in a life threatening position to choose between what she desires to do , and what is needed of her to do , will she make the right decision? No hero is free of weakness , even Superman had Kryptonite; but this Sage happened to have one of the most naughtiest Heels a person could possibly have.

How was she going to be able to heal herself when the very thing that is killing her is what she needs to keep herself alive?

TABLE

OF CONTENTS

: SYNOPSIS

: MEET | THE CAST

: ACT I | ‘MORE MONEY MORE PROBLEMS’

: CHAPTER I | FIRST TAKES & SLATES

“Until next time … THANK YOU for joining us in the ARTIVERSE.”

[casbooks]

Books of 2023

Book 20 of 2023

Title: Flying Through Midnight: A Pilot's Dramatic Story of His Secret Missions Over Laos During the Vietnam War Authors: John T. Halliday ISBN: 9780743274883 Tags: C-123 Provider, LAO Laos, LAO Laotian Civil War (1959-1975), Military Fiction, THA Thailand, USAF 606th Special Operations Sqd, USAF US Air Force, VNM Vietnam, VNM Vietnam War (1955-1975) Rating: ★ (1 Star) Subject: Books.Military.20th-21st Century.Asia.Vietnam War.Fiction

Description: Riveting, novelistic, and startlingly candid, John T. Halliday's combat memoir begins in 1970, when Halliday has just landed in the middle of the Vietnam War, primed to begin his assignment with the 606th Special Operations Squadron. But there's a catch: He's stationed in a kind of no-man's-land. No one on his base flies with ID, patches, or rank. Even as Richard Nixon firmly denies reporters' charges that the United States has forces in Laos, Halliday realizes that from his base in Thailand, he will be flying top-secret, black-ops night missions over the Laotian Ho Chi Minh Trail.   A naive yet thoughtful twenty-four-year-old, Halliday was utterly unprepared for the horrors of war. On his first mission, Halliday's C-123 aircraft dodges more than a thousand antiaircraft shells, and that is just the beginning. Nothing is as he expected -- not the operations, not the way his shell-shocked fellow pilots look and act, and certainly not the squadron's daredevil, seat-of-one's-pants approach to piloting. But before long, Halliday has become one of those seasoned and shell-shocked pilots, and finds himself in a desperate search for a way to elude certain death.   Using frank, true-to-life dialogue, potent imagery, and classic 1970s song lyrics, Halliday deftly describes the fraught Laotian skies and re-creates his struggle to navigate the frustrating Air Force bureaucracy, the deprivations of a remote base far from home and his young wife, and his fight to preserve his sanity. The resulting nonfiction narrative vividly captures not only the intricate, distorted culture of war but also the essence of the Vietnam veteran's experience of this troubled era.   A powerhouse fusion of pathos and humor, brutal realism and intimate reflection, Flying Through Midnight is a landmark contribution to war literature, revealing previously top-secret intelligence on the 606th's night missions. Fast-paced, thrilling, and bitingly intelligent, Halliday illuminates it all: the heart-pounding air battles, the close friendships, the crippling fear, and the astonishing final escape that made the telling of it possible.

Review: Lord this book by Halliday is just god awful and so fucking stupid. Ugh. It is supposed to be non-fiction, but half the shit in it is demonstrably false, and the other half is just stream of conscious ramblings. There’s a little bit that’s decent, maybe enough for a small magazine article or blurb worth.... but the 50 chapters... holy crap it’s just painful to read through. Everyone says it’s about the inner change that a pilot goes through from “by the book” to “free wheeling” whatever... and fine.. go for it.. that’s nice and all, and if the book was about that, sure, fine. But the fact that it’s said to be non-fiction, and half the crap is just so ludicrously wrong... that the meat and potatoes of the main characters change is just overshadowed by the absolute bullshit. Skip this book... skip it skip it skip it. 

[cocktailsfairytales]

🍍 𝗙𝗥𝗘𝗘𝗕𝗜𝗘 𝗔𝗟𝗘𝗥𝗧 🍍

Last chance to grab 𝙎𝙝𝙚 𝙇𝙞𝙠𝙚𝙨 𝙋𝙞𝙣𝙖 𝘾𝙤𝙡𝙖𝙙𝙖𝙨 by Brittanee Nicole Author for FREE!

✈️ Airforce pilot

🌸 Sassy teacher

✈️vacation romcom

🌸 second chance

➜ https://bit.ly/piñacoladas

Blurb:

Wanted: Hot Stranger For Vacation

It started with a simple message from the man known as Pina Coladas: Message me and Escape. After dumping my apartment-stealing boyfriend and rooming with my best friend’s dog, the promise of fruity drinks, dancing in the rain, and maybe even a midnight romp, leaves me singing a familiar tune, excited to travel to the Azores with the stranger who answered my wanted ad.

When Jack, aka Mr. Perfect, aka the one who got away, shows up at the airport, I’m left to wonder if this is just another one of life’s dirty pranks.

Jack isn’t only hot, he’s a fighter pilot with a sense of humor and blue eyes that make my butterflies dance. He’s saying all the right things and sending sparks in every direction he looks, asking me to take all sorts of risks—like swimming in hot springs, jumping in mysterious pools, and giving him a second chance. But he still hasn’t told me why he disappeared in the first place.

After a sip, or twenty, of sangria, I’ll happily explore the cafés and the beaches and possibly even Jack’s calves, but what I absolutely, positively will not do is fall for Jack—again.

Read more books by Brittanee Nicole: http://brittaneenicole.net/

[bandblogging]

Nose Ring (Josh Dun Blurb)

Pairing: Josh Dun X Reader

Words: 600+

Warning: mention of needles and getting a piercing

Summary: You jump over your shadow and finally get that nose piercing you always wanted

A/N: this is not proof read yet sorry, I just need to get this up tonight because I owe you one and I need to sleep bye

___

"Jooosh, babee?", you stretched the words as you walked into the room and put on your biggest smile. "Oh god what is it?", he asked you in a jokey tone and grinned back. "You know how I always wanted to get my nose pierced too?", you asked him. Ever since Josh had gotten his second nose piercing your desire to get one had flared up again. As a teen until a few years ago you had always wanted to get one but were too scared to actually do it. "Yes but I am not gonna be the one to do it", he laughed. "I don't want you to, I want you to go with me. I kinda made an appointment at the shop downtown", you rolled your eyes playfully and let yourself fall into his lap. "Pleaseee", you pleaded. He shifted you on his lap and pushed his finger into your side, tickling you. Laughs burst out of you and you squirmed in his grip. He continued tinkling you, moving up and down your stomach before finally agreeing to go with you. He playfully pushed you off his lap and let you down onto the ground. You scrambled to your feet and made your way to the hallway, grabbing your phone and wallet on the way.

There was only one person in front of you in the shop, your appointment was still almost ten minutes away but you couldn't wait at home any longer. You were sitting on a little two seater, waiting for the piercer to call you in. He had already given you some forms to sign and a little baggie with disinfectant, instructions and a tiny pack of gummy bears. Without even wanting to your leg was nervously shaking, excitement pulsing through you. Josh placed his hand on your thigh, slightly squeezing it and grinning at you. "You really don't have to be so nervous, it's going to be done in a heartbeat babe", he chuckled, speaking from experience. "I just can't help you", you smiled back nervously and kept bouncing in your seat.

A few agonising minutes later the guy that had welcomed you asked you to follow him into the back. Josh was dragged behind you, clutching his hand tight. The piercer directed you onto the bench and asked you to lay back. You followed his directions and with a bit of trail and error you had quickly found the right spot for the piercing. The guy marked it and began pulling out his tools while explaining the procedure to you. A little numbing cream would help to alleviate some pain but it would be over quickly and the pain would be forgotten soon.

Josh sat across from you on a chair and watched you in amusement, always showing a thumbs up when you looked at him. You knew it was stupid to be this nervous, thousand of people do this every day but it was still something new for you. But now it was too late and you were asked to stay still as he lined up his clampy thing with you nose. He squeezed it and while you took a deep breath the needle hat already pierced your skin. You felt a sharp pain, but nothing you couldn't handle, a big tear falling from your eye. The infamous crocodile tear as you were later informed. In the next two minutes he put in your medical piercing and you were done.

You hopped down from the bench and admired the little bit of jewelry now adorning your face. "I love it", you exclaimed and felt genuinely proud of yourself for finally getting over your fear. "It looks so good on you too", Josh grinned behind you and kissed the back of your head.

[topfics]

Requests

Hi everyone! I’m going to be opening up requests! So send them in! I may or may not get to them, as I’m in school at the moment, but I will do my best to whip them out at least once a month!!!

[theenbythatwrites]

Imagine Eddie somehow ending up in 2022 and he happens to make friends with an emo person

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

- Eddie wakes up very confused by the bright, fast paced world around him

- he wanders around trying to find anyone of his friends, stumbling upon someone in all black listening to a song he loves

- frantically trying to explain who he is the stranger decides to try and help

- after telling Eddie what year it is and introducing themself y/n listens to Eddie's story

- the two decide to figure out a way to get him back to Hawkins but until that happens Eddie must adapt to this time

- y/n takes Eddie shopping for clothes and a phone, taking time to answer any questions he has

- when they're back at y/n's house Eddie asks to listen to some of the music they like

- they spend hours listening to bands like; Black Veil Brides, My Chemical Romance, Sleeping With Sirens, Pierce The Veil, Citizen Soldier, Bring Me The Horizon + more

- Eddie particularly likes the guitar in both BVB and MCR

- at first he didn't like the screaming in BMTH but over time it's become his favorite

- he discovered Twenty One Pilots on his own and immediately asked y/n if they also liked the band

- he got mad when you finally showed him Paramore. "Y/N WHY DIDN'T YOU SHOW ME THEM EARLIER!?"

[alltimefail]

Hi! Welcome to my page!

➪ My name is V (she/her) and I’m 27 years old. I'm very bad at writing "about me" blurbs and I'm slow to respond to DMs, but if you send me an ask/private message I promise I will do my best to get back to you in a timely manner! 🖤

➪ I really LOVE Dead Boy Detectives. Help me save Dead Boy Detectives by streaming it on Netflix and by signing our renewal petition HERE. 💜💀🔎

➪ If you are in the Dead Boy Detectives fandom and want to access my "To-Do" list for saving our show, CLICK HERE.

➪ Follow me on Twitter for more shitposting, I'm atfsims1!

➪ My simblr is HERE (@alltimefail-sims).

➪ Every fundraiser or resource I’ve posted for Palestine can be found HERE. Please check this tag if you can help financially in any way or are willing to reblog the fundraisers to boost their visibility. FREE PALESTINE! 🍉

Navigate my fandoms and commonly used tags below ↓

➪ It shouldn't need to be said but DNI if you're racist, homophobic, transphobic/a rad fem/a TERF, ableist, and so on. You lot wouldn't like it here anyway. 👍

Dead Boy Detectives 💀🔎 (Main Tag) - Meta/Analysis - Gif Sets - Memes/Funny Text Posts - Behind the Scenes/Cast-specific posts ➪ This is my main fandom currently which is why the tag is so organized lol.

Other various fandoms I'm in but don't have super organized tags for include: #Stranger Things #Twenty One Pilots #The Goldfinch #Scott Pilgrim #ILITW "It Lives In The Woods" #ILW "It Lives Within" (ILITW Fan Project) #The Haunting of Hill House / Bly Manor #Midnight Mass #The Midnight Club #Watcher (Puppet History, Ghost Files, Mystery Files, and so on) #ACNH #Julie and the Phantoms #The Quarry #Heartstopper #RWRB "Red, White, and Royal Blue"

Note: I'm constantly adding to this list, this is just the stuff off the top of my head honestly. If you like any of this stuff feel free to follow! Also some of these tags will have less than 10 posts because I've just recently started being mindful of tagging my reblogs lol.

General and random tags I use often: #Fanart (One of my most used tags probably. I don't make it, but I do reblog it! There's a shit ton of good stuff in here!!) #Art (I don't make it, but I reblog it!) #Writing Inspo (Lots of poems and text posts tbh) #Personal (Where I shitpost)

➪ If any links seem broken, please try opening them in a browser!

[folinasahlo]

In Trench I’m not Alone

This is more of a Rant writing that I did for a written skills class. It’s really short and under the cut, there’s some context if you want to read.

Words: 298

Warnings: None

It was ending, and everyone knew, you could see faces, crying, hands raised in the dark. Your feet started to hurt, but it did not matter. The beat of the drums and the rhythm of the piano were invading every inch of your body, small in comparison of the multitude of people that were facing them.

Them, the people who appeared in your life a year ago, but they were in silence, hidden. They were hidden during months until they returned. Handing us new music, new moments, new memories.

Oh, when you knew they were coming, the adrenaline levels broke through the ceilings. It was a birthday present. You could go see them. Go to the city, go to see them, go to see your best friend.

The months passed. And the day arrived. And now it was ending. You could feel it in your throat. The tears piling in your eyes.

“In Trench I’m not alone”

You broke. It was true, you were not alone, not there. They were with you, the friends you made in the cue were with you, the friends you made along the way were with you. The strangers that surrounded you and sang along were there.

No, you weren’t alone, and that, in a strange way, it warmed your heart. But it was the end and you knew it. your hands were trembling. It couldn’t end. Not now, not when you experimented for the first time in the 18 years of your life euphoria.

But, yes, as everything in this world, ended. You followed your friends outside and bought a bottle of water, the music still ringing in your ears and still sniffling, the tears drying in your cheeks.

You won’t be alone, even if you feel like it. In Trench, you will never be alone.

AN: Well, on February of 2018 I fell in love with the music of Twenty One Pilots, in a moment that was one of the worst of the decade. They gave me hope, but they were in the middle of a year-long hiatus that at the moment we didn’t know how much it would last. Then, some cryptid stuff appeared and Jumpsuit and Nico and the Niners were released, starting the Trench era.

On the 16th of March of 2019, Twenty One Pilots had a concert in Madrid, The city where my best friend lives and we have a long-distance relationship. We met for the first time and we had good times around the city. In the queue, I met two cool people that were from a City near mine and we entered together to the pit. I had an awesome experience, and when Leave the City started playing, I cried. I felt really comforted around people like me, and I was sad that it was ending.

Hope you really liked this little blurb, it was more of a venting text, since it was still fresh in my mind and it’s one of the moments that I still have more vividly.

See you soon!

[kyufiber-moved]

「kim jungwoo」→ pet cheetah // requested by @softyfor-sweaterpaws „ eight days straight, eight hours each
and not one line
i can feel the pressure
start to possess my mind „

[painfromupdownandsideways]

Can’t Sleep//Tyler Joseph Blurb

Word Count: 550

Summary: You’ve been having trouble sleeping recently and Tyler is beginning to worry about you. 

A/N: I write in first-person perspective. Sorry if that bothers anyone!! Also, sorry for the low-quality picture. He just looks so soft and I couldn’t help myself.

I yawned for what seemed like the millionth time since I sat down to listen to some of the ideas Tyler had been coming up with for lyrics and melodies. I shifted my position, trying to keep myself awake and make it through.

"Is it that bad?" Tyler joked, a small laugh following his question.

"No, no," I reassured him. "I just didn't sleep too well last night, sorry." More like for the last two weeks, I thought.

"No, don't be sorry," he gave me a gentle smile. "Was there any particular reason, or was it just an off night?"

"No reason, really." Yeah, there is.

Tyler frowned at me, making me afraid that he wasn't going to buy my excuse. But with a small shrug of his shoulders, he returned his focus to the keyboard in front of him, working out a few chords before he ran through a potential chorus he had come up with.

About an hour later, Tyler had finished showing me what he had wanted to, and I was laying down on the couch, sluggishly browsing through my phone as he continued to work in his little "mini-studio" down the hall.

"Hey, you," Tyler walked up to the back of the couch leaning on it to poke me in the side. "So you're obviously lying about the whole sleepless night thing. How long has this been going on?"

I did my best to fake confusion at him, replying with, "Tyler, it was just one bad night. You really don't need to worry about it."

"But it wasn't," he spoke as he walked around the couch, picking up my feet that I had laying on the couch cushion, putting them on his lap after he sat down. "It's been going on for a while now, hasn't it?"

I didn't respond, trying to think of what I wanted to say.

"Hasn't it?" he pressed further.

"No Tyler-"

"Y/N, you're a terrible liar, I know-"

"Okay fine," I cut him off he fell into silence. "I've been having trouble sleeping. Is that what you wanted to hear?"

"How long?" he asked, ignoring my question.

"I don't know," I thought about it for a moment, placing my arms over my face as I lay there. "Two, two-and-a-half weeks?"

"What's the problem?"

"I don't know, I've tried to do so many things that didn't require medication, but none of them work." I sighed. "I can't see to shut my brain off, and I just lay awake for hours, just thinking."

A pained look was on his face as he asked, "About how much are you sleeping?"

"Four or five hours," I muttered. "On a good night."

"Y/N, you've gotta tell me about stuff like this," he looked at me, worry all over his features. "I'm right there on the other side of the bed. I can help."

"I don't want to bother you when you're sleeping."

"But you can't just not sleep, Y/N! It's not healthy, and it's been taking a toll on you!" he continued to watch me intently. "It's not good for your mental or physical health."

"I know. I'm sorry," I said, barely more than a whisper.

"Don't apologize," he smiled softly. "Just let me help, okay?"

I thought about it for a moment before accepting.

"Okay."