#and if i told you there's no personal space during this entire conversation??? if i told you it starts with Heon punching him

[theinfinitedivides]

'Officer Nam died because he was a good cop. am i wrong? you see it, don't you? that's why i've made up my mind. i'm going to kill them all.' 'they will kill you first. mercilessly. no one will know, no one will even care—' 'then let them. i don't care. whether the Vigilante succeeds or fails, there's at least one person who will always report on it. and even if no one finds out, at least you will! to prove himself, a man beat his head against a wall and tried.' *pauses* 'if you still want to stop me, after that, then kill me now. i won't run away. but if not... what you told me about. that justice? you have to show me now.'

[cuntressgoingdigital]

HEART 2 HEART | abby anderson x reader

free palestine! click this link for more info + dono links

synopsis: you comfort abby after her fight with mel in the aquarium

notes: this was written haphazardly while i was bored at work. i'm replaying tlou2 and this scene made me sad so here we are.

cw: sfw , gn! reader, hurt/comfort, gay yearning, kinda angsty, abby sexuality crisis, not quite a happy ending?, not exactly proofread

word count: 1k

you and abby’s shared sleeping bag lacked her warmth when you awoke. it took you a few moments to recognize your surroundings. this was your first time in the aquarium and naturally you were on your guard the entire time. it wasn’t that you didn’t trust owen and mel, you just didn’t know them. they had taken to yara and lev nice enough, so you assumed they were benevolent to some degree. in the very least, they weren’t a threat.

muffled voices drew you closer to the door that separated the makeshift bedroom and the main corridor of the aquarium. still groggy, you attempt to make out who the voices belonged to. after a few lines of indiscernible conversation, you could make out only a few words.

“you’re a piece of shit abby! you always have been.” 

you felt like an interloper, hesitant to bear witness to this conversation. so, you waited until silence took over.

abby was your best friend, even if you weren’t hers. you accompanied her on her secret mission to go “save” owen. you held no alliance to him, or any other member of the salt lake crew. your love for abby put you in this clusterfuck of a situation and you didn’t regret any second of it. 

you ran a semi-secret intel operation. you read every document, no matter if it were a chore list or religious text, that was recovered from the dead seraphites during patrols. isaac insisted it would encourage more thorough and devastating battle plans, but after a while the only thing you felt was guilt. 

abby, as isaac’s top scar killer, almost always had something to deliver to you. she always made idle conversation with you. as time went on your conversations became longer and your feelings for her grew. she attempted to introduce you to her other friends, but there was always an air of clique-ishness. they didn’t have room for new personalities it seemed. 

but, abby was always drawn to you. when manny needed the room she would often slip into your bed at night and snuggle into you for warmth. when she couldn’t sleep you would run your fingers through her long blonde hair and quietly hum to  music that wasn’t playing while you read through documents. after nearly a month straight of her coming to share your bed, you began to suspect that her absence wasn’t always at manny’s request. 

in her off time she would accompany you on random fetch quests at the behest of isaac. if you were sent across the stadium to complete some task isaac decided was beneath him, abby would follow behind you as you skipped along and chatted endlessly about something or another. sometimes she would talk back, but a lot of the time she just enjoyed hearing your voice. 

the sound of something metal hitting the floor drew you out of the room and out into the open. 

“abs?” you whispered. 

she didn’t turn to look at you, her eyes trained on the fish tank behind her. her fingers pawed at her cheeks wiping away the few tears that dared to fall. 

you took a few steps and slid down to the floor, back pressed against the fish tank. “come on.” you patted the space next to you. 

like a wounded dog she did as she was told and plopped down onto the floor next to you. you wrapped your arm around her as she rested her head on your shoulder.

“was that mel?” you had no idea what was going on with them. tensions were already high between them because of their shared love for owen. 

abby had only mentioned once, maybe six months ago that she still had some semblance of feelings for owen. she was really drunk and you had tried hard to forget. that had an obvious impact on her relationship with mel. after jackson things only seemed to get worse. 

you never asked, and abby never told. 

“i don’t know what the fuck i’m doing anymore. things were so easy a week ago.” a few of her tears ran down onto the sleeve of your shirt. 

“am i a bad person?” 

you could tell the question was almost rhetorical. any outright denial would be an attempt to stroke her wounded ego and an agreement was obviously not what she needed right now. much less was it something you would ever think to say. 

“i think you’re trying.” you whispered. this was a tender moment for only you and her to share. “abby from last week probably wouldn’t have come back for me or those kids.” you intertwined your fingers with hers. “there is no metric for a ‘good person’. the only thing that matters is you’re trying to be better than you were yesterday.” 

you could feel her holding her breath, likely trying to stave away any more tears. she sniffled and you kissed the back of her hand. 

“i love you, abs. okay?” 

it wasn’t your first time saying these words to her. most times it was in jest after you had been purposely annoying and you could tell she was losing her patience. or when she would save you an extra of your favorite meal from the mess hall. but, you always meant it. you loved her to the moon and back and would follow her anywhere. maybe you were too stupid and idealistic, but you would love her even if she never reciprocated your feelings. she was your forever, even if that meant being her lighthearted companion until the end of time. even if that meant dying in her arms. 

her puffy, teary blue eyes caught yours. she pressed her forehead against yours and lowly whispered your name. “i–“

yara sprinted into the room, looking mildly panicked. the two of you turned to her, immediately breaking the brief moment of solace you had found in each other.

“nice shirt.” abby gestured to yara’s t-shirt with a cartoon otter printed on it. 

abby often considered saying it back. kissing you in the darkness of your room. but, that would require parsing through her feelings for you. for owen. her sexuality. it was all too much. 

and it was certainly something she didn’t have time for right now. 

but, one day.

one day she would. 

[macfrog]

2003: a dbf odyssey

a @chloeangelic x @macfrog fic

greetings greetings one and all. welcome to the fucking circus. chloe cupcake and i have a gift for you. we put our heads together, took turns writing a classic dbf fic, and here is the hellscape we created. please enjoy. [this is entirely satirical and just for funsies. no harm intended. no tw discourse required. love u]

pairing: dbf!joel miller x fem!reader

summary: your dad's best friend, in your childhood bedroom, with his hard cock out. and that's all we have to say on that

warnings: unspecified age gap, tale set in 2003, female masturbation, creepy joel, praise kink, size kink, fingering, unprotected piv, degradation, angst!

word count: 4.6k

chloe's masterlist | max's masterlist

The sun shines through the window of your childhood bedroom. You’re still reeling from an argument you just had with your mom, over the degree you just spent four years and fifteen grand on. She doesn't understand your passion for fossils, she never has, and during every family function, only one person asks you how school is going. 

Joel Miller, your dad's best friend.

He’s tall. Broad. He’s built like a Dorito. Flamin’ Hot Cool Ranch. He drives a truck and he listens to dad rock. One time you saw him in a Led Zeppelin t-shirt. You asked what that was, and he said it was a band from “before your time, darlin’”. You swooned at the pet name. 

He’s quiet and unassuming. Lingers on the outskirts of every gathering your parents throw. He likes to talk about construction, and wood carving, and little else. At least, that’s what you thought, before you came back home after graduating. 

Suddenly, he started glancing in your direction every time you came into the room wearing a tight little top with significant cleavage. He would clear his throat at dinner and wipe a bead of his sweat from his forehead at BBQs. 

You always called him Mr Miller, and ever since graduation, that name made him blush. Last Thanksgiving, when his family was over for dinner at your parents’ house, you started asking him about old movies, and he grumbled, then told you about 2001: A Space Odyssey. 

He said he couldn’t believe that a girl with a paleontology degree had never seen A Space Odyssey before. Promised he’d show you it sometime. ”Smart girl like you will love it,” he said. 

You had opened your mouth to respond, to lend him the quirkiest retort you could think of, when your dad had bumbled into the room, shoving you out of the way. He brought up the latest Austin Ice Bats game, took Joel up in a conversation you couldn’t be a part of - you knew nothing about minor league ice hockey. 

Your mom called you through to the kitchen and asked you to help her with dinner. When you came into the kitchen, she started asking you if you’d gone on any dates recently, if there were any cute guys in your college classes. 

You rolled your eyes, “No, mom, none of them are my type.” 

She huffed while handing you a pot of mashed potatoes, “What’s your type then?” 

You didn’t want to tell her that your type was older men. Really old, in their fifties. Your type was Joel, but you couldn’t tell her that. Instead, you described what you thought Joel might’ve looked like when he was younger. “Brown hair, beards maybe,” you said, and turned on your heel before walking into the dining room and setting the pot on the table. 

You glanced over the place settings. Your mom had already put down everyone’s drinks. Yours and Sarah’s - a glass of water each. She says water helps with clear skin. Her own - a white Russian cocktail. And your dad and Joel’s, side by side - two beers, dripping with condensation. You paced around the table, formulating a plan. 

As your mom’s voice drew nearer down the hallway, you quickly switched Joel’s beer for Sarah’s water, sitting him next to you.

When he came into the dining room with your father, you noticed that Joel was looking at you with dark, sultry eyes. He gave you a tight lipped smile as he sat down in his chair, then turned to your mother, “Looks great.” You felt his knee knock into yours under the table, but he didn’t move away. Heat pooled in your stomach. Your chest tightened, threatening to burst from the confines of your tight t-shirt.

The same t-shirt you’re wearing right now - sat at the end of your bed. Remembering the way his denim jeans felt on your bare leg. You lie back on your sheets and stare at the ceiling, thinking of his swollen muscles under his flannel shirt. The tuft of chest hair sprouting from over the collar. The veins in his hands as he passed you the salt. 

You were holding a pair of jeans in your hands, about to slide them over your legs when you looked down to see a wet spot in your panties, and now you can’t ignore the throbbing in your core at the thought of seeing him again. 

You carefully trace your fingers over your panties, grazing the wet spot, feeling your cheeks burning from the awareness that it’s your dad’s best friend making you wet. 

You lift the skirt of your barleycorn sundress and open your legs, knees wide on your springy mattress. You hope that it doesn’t make a sound as you push the fabric aside, dragging your fingers over your most sensitive spot.”Joel,” you whimper when your fingertip brushes your wet opening, but you’re startled when you hear the doorbell ringing. 

You pull your hand out quickly and your eyes flare open, chest heaving. You sit up, throw your legs over the side and slip on your jeans, button them up and turn to look at yourself in the mirror before heading downstairs, feeling the low throb deep inside of you as you carefully walk out into the hallway and hear your father greeting Joel as he comes in the door. 

“Howdy,” he says when he spots you descending the staircase.

You hold tight onto the handrail, afraid you might topple over from the sight of him and the fluttering between your legs. “Hi.”

Joel’s eyes travel from your face down your body, ending up on your legs. You suddenly feel self-conscious, but all the same, secretly thrilled that he’s staring at you in this way. You stare back, eyeing him up and down from his scruffy beard to his dusty lace-up boots. Your eyes meet again as you reach the bottom step.

Joel sniffs once. “The hell are you wearing a dress and jeans for?” he asks.

“It’s called fashion,” you sass, and he grunts in response. “Ready to watch the movie?”

“I’m readier than a fried egg on the San Antonio Boulevard sidewalk, darlin’.” There’s that pet name again. You bite your lip and walk into the living room, trying to regulate your breathing. Your dad is already on the couch, remote control in hand, saying he has rewinded the DVD and that the two of you are being slowpokes. 

“The old man’s got jokes,” Joel grumbles, motioning for you to sit down in between him and your dad. 

The three of you put your feet up on the coffee table in front of you. You angle your feet towards Joel’s, your pinkie toe nudging against the sole of his boot. He crosses his ankles and settles back into the couch, folding his arms and prodding your side with his elbow.

“It’s a classic,” he mutters, and you giggle.

Your dad’s head whips around to face you from your peripheral like he is watching a tennis match. “What’s so funny?” he bleats.

“Nothing,” you and Joel chime, focusing hard on the screen. You smile smugly at the fact that you have an inside joke with him, something just between the two of you.

You can’t focus on the movie when your dad turns it on, and you suspect that Joel can’t either by the way he shifts around in his seat. “Got ants in your butt, buddy?”, your dad snorts, and Joel waves dismissively while you stifle your laughter. 

“Just feel like I’m sinkin’ into the couch here,” Joel says, “‘S too soft.” 

Soft, you replay the way he says it, over and over in your mind. You wonder if he’ll think you’re soft if he touches you with his rough hands.

“This movie sucks,” you announce, halfway through. “I can’t believe I had never heard of it. I thought it only came out two years ago?”

Joel snorts. “It came out in 1968 and was directed by Stanley Kubrick, dingus. 2001 is just the title of the film.”

Your face flushes fifty shades of fuchsia. Your dad guffaws on your left side, clapping his hands together like an annoying seal. His laughter is so loud that he almost doesn’t hear his cell phone ringing until you point it out to him. 

“Yellow,” he says as he answers, and chuckles at his own joke, then holds up his finger and turns to the side, mumbling something into his phone. “Be there in twenty,” he says, then hangs up, and turns to you and Joel, “Gotta go pick up your mom but I should only be about forty five minutes as long as she doesn’t drag me into a conversation with her girlfriends. Y’all gonna be okay here?” 

You both nod and sit still as your dad groans and gets up from the couch, listening as he disappears into the hallway to put on his shoes and jacket, then the door shutting. 

You go to grab the remote control to keep playing the movie, and accidentally spill some of the Coke from the can you’re holding. Joel is looking at the screen while you look at the dark stain on the couch cushion, and instead of getting up to get a paper towel to clean it with, you scoot a little closer to Joel. 

He clears his throat and puts his hand on the back of the couch, right behind your shoulders, not saying a word. You could cut the tension in the room with a knife and you glance down at his crotch to see the bulge in his jeans, then look up at him. 

He looks at you for a second, then furrows his brows, “What’s goin’ on in that head of yours?”

“Thinkin’ about bones.”

“Bones?”

“Specifically the one in your pants, Mr. Miller,” you say and bat your eyelashes, and then, “Just kidding.” You turn your head back to the TV but you can see that he’s still looking at you. “I was actually thinking about the Micropachycephalosaurus.” 

“What did you say ‘bout my pants, darlin’? Could swear you said somethin’”

“Nothing, I promise,” you giggle and look away. 

Then his hand comes to your thigh, long fingers splayed over your jeans, thumb tracing back and forth, igniting a flame inside of you. 

“W-what are you doing, Mr. Miller?”, you ask nervously, feeling the heat pooling in your panties again, and this time, it’s not because of your imagination. 

“Lookin’ real pretty tonight,” he says, and his other hand comes to your shoulder. You whimper at his touch. “Can just call me Joel, you know that,” he scolds with a wink.

“Th-thanks, Joel.” 

You feel his hand come up under your chin with a featherlight touch, turning your face up to meet his eyes. He brushes his thumb over your cheek and your face feels hot, your heart beating fast. 

He looks at you through big brown eyes. You blink softly back, trying to transmit a code to him to clue him in on the ache making your thighs clench. You wonder if he knows Morse.

Joel grips your jaw and leans in, his smoldering eyes flashing between yours and your lips. He purses his own and before you know it, his warm mouth is flush against yours, his tongue pushing inside. He licks along the rim of your teeth and you open your jaw, letting him explore your wet gums.

In an instant, you pull yourself on top of him and remove his flannel, ripping the buttons apart and scattering the cloth to the couch. Joel’s hands curve around your round tits, he rolls your pebbled nipples between his thumbs like fiddling with a console controller. You roll your hips forward with a moan.

He's so hard. You look at him with wide eyes and a pout, “You're so hard.” 

“Are you wet f’me, pretty girl?”, he asks. You know it's wrong, your dad could be home any moment, but you frantically nod. 

“Good girl,” he says, and traces his fingers along the edge of your jeans, barely making contact with your skin. 

He stands from the couch in one fluid motion, and you squeal at the sudden way in which you’re lifted in the safe grasp of his arms. It’s astounding how strong he is. How able he is to sweep you into the air, carry you out of the living room. How his biceps bulge as his boots thud up the stairs one by one.

He reaches the landing and pauses, eyes scanning the four closed doors. He steps forward and kicks open the one closest to your bodies, before realizing it is the bathroom and reversing out again.

“Pardon me,” he mumbles an apology, and you giggle again.

“It’s the one on the right,” you instruct, and he shuffles down the hall carpet before bumping your door open. He pauses for a moment when he enters the room - your childhood bedroom. 

“Haven't been in here in years,” he says, and you know he's referring to when he helped your dad take out the old closets and replace them with new ones. You still have the same closets. Maybe he's admiring his work. You look at the posters on the wall and your floral bedspread. 

Then he lays you down on the bed and sighs. “These old knees,” he grumbles, “And my fuckin’ back.” 

You giggle. 

“Mind if I take this off, darlin’?”, he asks, gently tugging at the bottom of your barleycorn sundress. You nod again, feeling your face getting hot and your panties sticking to your pussy. 

Your back arches as he slips the thin fabric from your body, your breasts spilling out of their polyester prison. Joel straightens up, admires the view and hums to himself.

“Fuckin’ gorgeous,” he muses, then bends again to press his body against yours. His fingers tussle with the waist of your jeans, the petite buttons only women's clothing seems to have, and you growl at the effort it takes for him to derobe you. 

“I know,” he says, lips close to your ear, “‘S these big ol’ hands. They get in the way of everythin’, baby.”

You whimper pathetically, wanting nothing more than those big hands to get in the way of you. You shove your fists beneath the denim when he finally undoes the zipper, and help him drag them from your legs. As soon as the heavy fabric hits your floor, Joel’s removing his own jeans. Now, only your underwear and his separate you.

There's a wet spot on his boxers already and you whimper when you place your fingertip on it, biting your lip when he growls at the sensation. “M-Mr. Miller,” you whine, “Can I see your cock? It looks really big.” 

“‘S real big, sweetie, are you sure you can handle it?” 

“Y-yes, Joel, I'm a big girl.” 

“‘F you say so,” he grumbles, then takes off his boxers, and you admire the sight of his manhood. You've never seen a big cock like that, a real thick and long one. You don't think it'll fit inside and you gasp, eyes flashing open while you start to creep backwards on the sheets. 

“Keep the panties on,” Joel orders, following between your legs. His hairy knees push deep into the plush cushion of your mattress, his fist jerks slowly up and down his dick, which seems to only grow larger the closer he gets.

You nod obediently, biting your bottom lip. Your eyes stick on the dribble of precum he swipes with his thumb. You fall back, head sinking into your pillows, and Joel hovers over you, one hand by your head. 

You peel your underwear to the side, now positively soaked. Joel’s hand leaves his member to cup you, feeling your dripping mess. “So wet f’me,” he whispers, and you moan, long and ragged. 

Then he touches the tip of his finger to your opening and watches you squirm while he starts to push it in, entering you with one thick finger. You take all of it in stride, and you frown when he retracts it. 

“So eager,” he says triumphantly, then adds another, and you feel the coil inside you start to tighten. You can't reach as deep as he does, nobody can except for him. Your dad's best friend, in your childhood bedroom, with his hard cock out. Tears start pricking your eyes as you get closer. 

You whine, “I’m gonna come, Mr. Miller.”

He clicks his tongue, “Just Joel,” and then he picks up the pace of his fingers, pushing them inside you until you gush all over your sheets and his hand, feeling the tears sliding down your temples and your fists gripping the sheets tightly. He made you come, it's like a wet dream. 

You gasp when you see the mess you made and he chuckles. “Sorry Just Joel - I mean,” you shake your head, clearing the hazy fog of sex your orgasm left behind, “Joel.” Your cheeks heat with embarrassment.

“No need to apologize, sweet girl,” he whispers, pinching your cheek with his soaked fingers. Your own cum stains your skin, somehow cooling against the stifling hot air in your room. The air filled with lust and sex.

He draws his hand back, wraps it back around his cock, rubs your gleaming slick up and down his thickness. He groans as you coat him, head tilting back to the ceiling. For a second, you wonder if he will actually fuck you, or if he’s just here to jerk off using your cum, kneeling over you.

Your query is answered when he returns his gaze to yours and leans over you again, running the tip between your folds. Your body jolts at the contact, overstimulated and spent already. But Joel doesn’t care. The man gives no fucks.

“Fuckin’ tight,” he groans as he makes space for himself inside you, pushing the head in and impaling you on his fat girth. You feel so full. 

He bottoms out and moans. You watch a drop of sweat gliding from his hairline and down his temple, then crane your neck up to kiss it. His tip kisses your cervix on every thrust and you grip his broad shoulders, hanging onto him while he pounds you. 

“Good girl, takin’ this big fat cock,” he praises, panting into the crook of your neck. 

“Oh, fuck,” you feel the band inside of you tightening, about to snap, but then he pulls out of you and wraps his fingers around his cock again, stroking himself and snarling when he tells you to turn around. 

You’re spent, limbs wrung out like a rag, but you force yourself up while you look at his cock dumbly, seeing his precum dripping out and onto your sheets. Suddenly, you hear him, “What’re you waitin’ for, sweetheart?”, and you immediately turn around and onto your hands and knees, seeing a photo of your parents on your window sill. 

You screw your eyes shut so you don’t think about them, and try to focus on Joel penetrating you from behind in one motion, going full hog, filling you to the brim with cock. “F-feels so good, Joel,” you squirm and moan while he slips his large hands onto your hips, fingers splaying out over the curve of your asscheeks, pulling you back so he can fill you relentlessly. 

His skin slaps against yours, the air in the room quickly filling with nothing but the sounds of his moans and yours, his wet and yours, his body and yours. Your eyes squeeze tight until you see stars, raining down over the darkness behind your eyelids. Your whole bed shakes vigorously with the rate Joel pounds into you, mattress knocking against your nightstand and sending the objects on it tumbling to the floor.

Joel notices as one in particular - your Satisfyer Pro 2 Gen 2 Air Pulse Stimulator, which you find good but really intense with its sucking power - rolls across the wooden floor. His grip tightens on your hips and he chuckles. “‘S a good girl like you doin’ with a thing like that in her room, huh?”

Your back curls. You moan in response. “Umm,” you mumble nervously, trying to think of a response when you see his lips curve into a smirk, “I- I was trying to come, last night.” 

“Oh yeah? Thinkin’ bout what, young lady?” 

Your cheeks burn with embarrassment. You were thinking about him. He can tell - he brushes his thumb over your cheek. “Were you thinkin’ about me, darlin’?”, he asks, and you don’t respond. You look at him with wide eyes. “‘S alright, I’ve been thinkin’ about this tight little pussy, blowin’ my load in the shower. I ain’t ashamed to admit it, you’re a real pretty girl.” 

Your pussy gets wetter when you think about him touching himself and you wonder how it looks. Your dad would kill him if he knew, and you’re surprised Joel would tell you something like that, but it makes you so wet. 

The image in your mind forces you to arch your back, your body curving before Joel into the mattress. He grunts each time his hips come into contact with the plushy meat of your ass, telling you good girl and squeezing you just right as his cock hits you so deep you feel him in your chest.

“I’m - gonna - cum - again,” you pant, words muffled by the floral pattern your lips are smushed into. “Joel - I’m -”

“I hear ya, baby,” he says, hips snapping. His voice is rough, hoarse. He sounds like he needs some NyQuil. You make a mental note to offer him a refreshing glass once you’re done. “Cum for me, go on. Know you need it.”

Your walls close around him as you do as he says, tightening around the intrusion in your pussy. 

His cock begins to twitch deep inside you and he shoves you by the ass off of him. You tumble to the bed and roll over just in time to be drowned by his cum, thick white ropes spraying all over your tummy and tits. You worry with the ferocity of his release that it might reach the photo of your parents, but you’re too caught up in the pleasure of the moment, your own spend spilling out of your tight little hole.

“Fuck yeah,” he groans, “Take that cum.” Then, all of a sudden, his face drops and he freezes in place. He looks at you, covered in his semen, then runs his hand over his face and tucks himself back in his pants. He looks stressed as it dawns on him that he just came all over his best friend’s daughter.

“Joel,” you say carefully. 

“Yes, darlin’”. He winces when the word leaves his mouth. 

“W-what if my dad finds out?”

He runs his hand over his beard. “I don’t know,” he says, “I gotta go.”

“But w-wait, Joel!”

He’s already shuffling out of your room, hopping as he tugs his jeans back over his hips. “M’sorry, baby, I have to-”

“Wait!” you yelp, tearing your underwear from your body. You almost trip over the fabric as you hop down from your bed. “Take these!”

You throw the panties across your room and Joel catches them against his chest, scrunching them into a ball. You sit back on your heels, totally naked in front of him, smirking at the thought of him crossing paths with your dad in the hallway and knowing the secret he holds in his jeans pocket. Knowing that he just fucked his best friend’s daughter, in her childhood bedroom.

His cheeks heat with shock. Your panties are dripping wet. He nods and tucks them into his back pocket and adjusts the crotch of his pants over his still hard cock. 

Suddenly, you hear the front door opening. 

Your parents are home. 

You gasp and fumble with your jeans, trying to put them on with shaky hands while you hear Joel step onto the first floor, just leaving the staircase as the door shuts behind your parents as they come in. 

“Hey, buddy,” your dad calls, and you hover at the top of the stairs. “What- whatcha doin’ with your shirt off?”

Joel stammers, scratching the back of his neck. Your mom stares at him, eyes raking up and down his hairy torso. You feel a hot pang of jealousy at her wandering eyes on the man you just fucked.

“She, uh,” he motions up to you, now stepping slowly down the stairs, “She spilled her drink down my shirt.” He reaches for the crumpled flannel, whipping it in his hands and throwing it over his shoulders.

Your mom tsks. “So clumsy,” she says, shaking her head. “Did you get it cleaned alright?”

Joel nods, jumping a little when you arrive at the bottom of the stairs by his side. He’s still buttoning the shirt. “Yeah, all cleaned up. Thank you, ma’am.”

You feel a surge of excitement shoot through your veins, feeling your wet leaking out onto your jeans and knowing what lives in Joel’s pocket. You sway back and forth, hands clasped behind your back, smiling innocently.

“Sweetie,” your mom calls over, “Why don’t you go walk Joel to his truck?”

“Y-yes, mom,” you stutter, and motion for Joel to walk ahead of you. 

“Have a good night,” he says and pats your dad on the back on his way out. 

You watch every one of his heavy footsteps down the hall and out of the house, slipping on your Crocs before you follow him out, closing the door behind you. 

The two of you linger outside of his truck for a moment. He looks over your shoulder, squinting in the Texas sun as he looks towards the house. You look at the gray in his beard, the curve of his nose and his salt and pepper hair. 

Part of you hopes he’ll ask to see you again, but he’s your dad’s best friend, it could never work. He kicks a small rock with the toe of his boot, arms folded. He leans against the truck and looks up at the sky. 

Your stomach flutters at the sight of him and the feeling of his sticky cum on your stomach, gradually absorbing into your skin. 

“Guess I’ll see you ‘round,” he says and straightens up. He purses his lips while he looks away, then at you. 

You giggle and tuck your hair behind your ear, “Um, yeah.”

“Then I’ll teach you a lesson ‘bout not payin’ attention while watchin’ a movie,” he says, and his voice is sultry and raspy. His fingers are around your chin, tilting your face up to him. “You’ve been a bad girl, lettin’ your dad’s buddy fuck you like a little slut.”

Your lips smush between his finger and thumb. “Yesh, Mr. Miller,” you push between your teeth.

“The hell’d I tell you? It’s Joel.”

You nod fervently. “Yesh, Jool.”

He releases you and opens the truck door, eyeing you constantly as he gets in. 

You pick at your nails nervously as you watch him start the truck, and then drive away. 

You lean against your parents’ Honda Civic and look up at the sky, closing your eyes and sighing. Your teeth come to bite your lower lip into your mouth, tasting him on your tongue. Your dad’s best friend. 

He promised he would teach you a lesson. You wonder what the lesson is.

[chaoticbardlady99]

Nobody's Fool (Astarion x GN! Reader) Part 4

Synopsis: Astarion kissed Shadowheart during Truth or Dare and then he kisses you in the heat of Battle. You and Astarion have a heart to heart after he refuses to give back your bedroll. Astarion realizes how much he needs you and wants you around.

CW: Dead dove, fighting violence (beating the heck out of Nere)

Author Note: Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated! Thank you for all the love and support!

Part 3 : Part 5 : Master list

“Hold it!” 

 “Easy now! Let’s not do anything hilarious!” He says all too quickly to the Deep Gnome.

“Shut your mouth hoon or I’ll shut you down.”

 He really hates Gnomes and this certainly isn’t helping. 

 Astarion could not be more horrified with the situation in front of them right now and you are in shock- the amount of ‘blow up dust’ as you so ungraciously called it, could quite literally destroy every single person in this room. 

 Gods, Astarion adores you. Only you would panic and yell, “GUYS THAT’S A LOT OF BLOW UP DUST!” 

 Karlach is laughing hysterically out of fear and Gale looks like he may actually shit himself. Astarion is somehow the calmest individual here and that doesn’t bode very well for him. He isn’t keen on planning and with you out of commission, Karlach on the verge of hysteria, and Gale, oh so usually fearless Gale, is having second thoughts about this adventure, it’s up to Astarion to keep you all from imploding. 

 “DO NOT TELL ME WHAT TO DO!” the Gnome roars, earning a roll of Astarion’s eyes, “state your business.”

“W-we are here because we really need some of that powered, “ you say awkwardly, “you are Philomeena? I presume?” 

“What’s to say?” Her thick accent grinds on his ear drums, “you’re Nere’s bootlicker- saw you sail in. A godsdamned True Soul.

“Better to die in this shit heap than moonrise. If you want me- come get me.”

 Astarion takes over the conversation from there and manages to talk her down and she retreats- leaving them just enough to free Nere and the Deep Gnomes trapped in the rock fall. 

“I suppose romance is dead,” Gale tsks, “that Gnome is heartless.” 

“Eh,” Astarion shrugs, “I’m not entirely surprised- that ‘lover’ of hers is rather annoying.” 

“Annoying?” You whirl around, looking very confused, “what in the hells do you mean by annoying?” 

 You are the emotional equivalent of a poofy cat right now and Astarion had a feeling something may eventually strike one of your nerves.

 The group had played a massive game of Truth or Dare the night before. Shadowheart, for whatever reason, dared Astarion to kiss her. He figured it was just in good fun- no big deal.

 He is beginning to think that he may have been sorely, sorely mistaken and so does Shadowheart- and coincidentally, Karlach.

 Their line of thought had been that you may finally make your move.

 It backfired miserably. 

 You talked to him throughout the night like you normally do, but you weren’t nearly as forthcoming with your own answers, and you told him you didn’t know if you were up for a cuddle. You said you just “had a bad dream the night before and I don’t want to wake you up from all my thrashing. It usually accompanies the second night.” 

 He knows it’s utter shit. He saw how heartbroken you looked and the way you seemed to indulge in far more wine than you usually do. You decided you were over the game after a few more rounds and decided to go to bed- he didn’t know what to do. He wasn’t sure if you would want his comfort or not so he joined you a bit later- certainly space would be the best thing he could provide.

 It once again occurred to him that that was not the direction to go after Shadowheart and Karlach confronted him after everyone else went to sleep.

“Now they are going to think you don’t care at all!” 

“Fangs- if you want to fix this, I suggest you go sprinting that way sooner than later.” 

 “I merely meant that she seems a wee bit clingy, my Dear,” he says nonchalantly, “all that worrying over someone who doesn’t feel the same would be exhausting.”

“It is.” 

 You are turning around before anyone can even say a word. 

“I’m sorry, Fangs,” Karlach whispers before racing to catch up with you. 

 He sighs heavily- he should be next to you right now. 

“Trouble in paradise?”

 Astarion scowls, “I don’t need your advice, Gale, I have standards.” 

“Maybe, but I’m not the one who hurt Tav’s feelings by kissing my ex- fling,” he states matter of factly, “you know how much they care for you- you didn’t think to tell Shadowheart, ‘no’?” 

“I-“ Astarion goes to defend himself but then realizes that, unfortunately, Gale is right. Only he has no idea how to say no. It never occurred to him that he would be allowed to tell other people no- not just you.

“I don’t think less of you, Astarion,” Gale says promptly, “I am no stranger when it comes to the topic of love.

“You should do something meaningful for them.” 

“And whatever the hells can I do!?” He tries not to sound so whiny and desperate, “they despise me right now and why wouldn’t they!?” 

 And that is when Gale drops the bomb of all bombs.

 He told Astarion your first date plans for him- sea shell hunting, a bottle of wine, and just getting to know each other. At the time it may have made him scoff and make fun of you- what a ridiculous concept, taking him to collect seashells. 

 Only now, he wants to do that more than anything, but you have already crossed the river and you all have yet to get Nere’s head in one of your bags for the Myconoid colony. He isn’t even entirely sure there are seashells down here!

 He stands firm in his resolve- he will continue to act as if nothing is different, maybe be more affectionate, and then when you all finally make it out of the Underdark and if there is a decent beach near the Crèche- he is going to take you on the date of the Century and you won’t have to question his affections ever again.

 It is bad for his plan- after all. 

  He follows you and Karlach as you make the trek back to the slaves and the slavers attempting to free Nere and the others trapped behind the rock wall. 

 You still avoid his gaze when you talk to the Deep Gnomes and the Duergar- informing them that you have the solution to all their problems and then some.

 Everything pops off instantly- you are rage filled and Nere being an ass earns him a thunder wave that sends him flying backwards.

 The fight is brutal and Astarion is keeping up with Nere in the mess of battle around them- you protect him with sanctuary and give him as many advantages as you are able while also making sure the others are equally as taken care of. 

 “ASTARION!” 

 Astarion ends Nere and turns just in time to see an enlarged Duergar come stumbling towards him- grabbing him by the head before flinging him towards the Lava. 

 If he’s being completely honest- it’s not the worst death he could experience and he isn’t all that upset about it.

 However, he never does get devoured by the lava below. You jumped in time to grab him and he forgot that you had consumed a potion of flying and elixir of giant strength before the battle. You were hyper worried about the lava and he supposes he is grateful for it as you both go rolling onto one of the rock platforms floating like a ship.

 Astarion begins to feel the impact of the situation he had been about to experience. He supposes it probably wouldn’t have been that pleasant of an experience, but still not the worst.

 You, on the other hand, risked your sanity and innocence for him- not even knowing if you would be able to get to him or not. 

 The battle continues to roar around both of you, but his attention is entirely on you. 

 You care for him- really care for him- and he has come to really care for you too. How can you not see how much he cares about you? How are you still clouded by his regretful rejection!?  

 “Are you okay?” You are a sweaty, horribly panicked mess, “are you hurt? Any scratches? What about-“

 You are cut off by his lips against yours and his hands cupping your face. 

  You look dazed when he finally stops and thankfully, he is able to recover somewhat and sends an arrow flying at the duergar that was about to shoot you. 

 You both re-engage in the battle- now using ranged attacks to cover each other and the others. 

 It feels like eons before it ends, but you never leave each other’s side and he could do this for as long as needed as long as you are nearby. If your safety and his safety are in question, he will not leave until both of you are safe. The idea of abandoning you, in spite of how afraid he is, makes him sick. 

 You give him a weak smile by the time it’s over- you are obviously overheated and feeble. Sweat drips down your face and neck- he supports you and Gale helps to teleport you both over. 

 Astarion beheads Nere like he promised he would and the trek back to camp feels like an eternity. He is even feeling overheated and that is saying something. 

  You go with the rest of the women to clean up and that leaves Astarion to wonder if he crossed the line. Maybe he misread all the signs and you have been over him for a while now. 

 A sigh of relief leaves his mouth when you enter the tent- you look torn by his presence and you sit crisscrossed with your hands folded across your chest.

“You have to choose.”

“I-I beg your pardon?” he scoffs.

“You either kiss me or you kiss Shadowheart, but I can’t keep feeling confused and heartbroken like this. I know you rejected me, but that still doesn’t mean you can play with my feelings.”

 Astarion feels a lump form in his own throat- he didn’t realize how much he had hurt you with his actions. He knew to some extent they hurt you, but he hadn’t realized that this had maybe been an ongoing issue for you and the majority of his actions have been kind of confusing. 

“I choose you,” he states quickly, “I’m surprised that is even a question at this point, Darling.”

“I- WHAT DO YOU MEAN!?” You sputter, “You rejected me!” 

“And I told you I regretted it!”

“When!?”

“That day on the beach!”

 You look dumbfounded and like you have no idea what he is even talking about. It takes you a few more moments until it seems to click, but then you just look even more annoyed.

“That was barely anything!”

“To you maybe!”

 You guffaw, an adorable pout on your face, “then why did you kiss her again?”

“It was for a game,” he rolls his eyes with exasperation, feeling agitated beyond belief, “if I knew this would be this much of a headache, I wouldn’t have come into your tent or kissed you today.” 

 He realizes what he says almost immediately after saying it. Your face is incredibly still and you look really, really hurt. 

 You get up and grab your bed roll- storming towards the entrance.

“Darling-“

 You swat his hand away, but he’s not about to give up that easily. He grabs for anything and you are fighting over your bedroll now.

“Give it back, Astarion!” 

“Absolutely not- not until you forgive me and agree to stay!” 

 “I’m not ready to!”

“Then I guess you won’t get your bedroll or sleep!” 

 The two of you stare at each other, neither party budging and when you do a test pull, he narrows his eyes at you and holds the sleeping bag even tighter. 

 Admittedly, the idea of you walking away from him while you are still upset makes him feel like he’s been flayed. He doesn’t want to sit agonizing about what his punishment may be if you decide you are never able to forgive him. His brain is going to extremes- you will either never speak to him again, kick him out, stake him, return him to Cazador, or you will serve Cazador level punishment. 

 He knows you wouldn’t do any of those things in his rational brain- you probably just need a moment to breathe-but his nervous system is alight with fear and worry. His brain is telling him he cannot let you walk out of your tent until this is resolved. 

 You pull on it again and his grip only tightens more- that’s when he becomes aware of the fact that he is shaking and he hasn’t blinked or breathed in a moment. Not a sound has escaped him- he oozes worry and fear. 

 He doesn’t want to go back to how things were before he gave you the Restoration Amulet- he doesn’t want to lose his cuddle time with you or your affection or gain your hatred.

 He doesn’t want you to realize what Cazador had so long ago- Astarion is a nuisance, a dumb ass, and a fool. He’s naive and ridiculous- unloveable at best. 

 He doesn’t want you to see him that way, but maybe it’s too late now. Maybe the damage is already done and this is only making it worse.

“Astarion?” Your voice is soft and your head is tilted, “it’s okay- I can be upset with your actions and vice versa without something bad happening. I just- well I guess I needed some time to cool off.” 

 He can’t speak- his body has shut down entirely. When did that happen? His body is disconnected from his brain and he is floating in space. He feels so far away from you and it makes him want to cry like a pathetic child who is afraid of a monster under the bed. 

 He needs you and he doesn’t want to admit it.

“Astarion?” 

 The way he let’s go of the bed roll is almost robotic.

“No worries, Darling,” his mask comes up again- something he hasn’t felt the need to do in a while, “go, cool off or whatever it is you need to do. I will find something else to preoccupy my time.” 

 He turns back towards his stuff in your tent- maybe he should pack it up? Give you a night to yourself? 

 Maybe he should start heading towards Baldur’s Gate and attempt to free himself from Cazador. It will likely end in his death, but maybe that is for the better. Nobody needs a broken piece of garbage hanging around. 

 A gentle hand on his shoulder makes him stiffen even more, but your scent and the sound of your heartbeat are enough to keep him from lashing out in fear. 

 “Astarion- please stand up and look at me- please.”

 He does as he’s told because what else can he do? You are mad at him and he can’t afford to lose you. 

 Astarion, in his haze, is confused by the sad look on your face. You should be elated- he is broken and ready to be used for whatever you need. Whatever you want- as long as it means you will come back to him by morning and you won’t think less of him than you probably already do. 

 Your hands gently move to his cheeks and your eyes are boring into his empty, unblinking, spacey ones. He can hear your heartbeat racing- your response to the monster in your tent. However, you could not be more gentle, caring, and brave.

“Come back to me, Star,” you whisper, “you’re safe here with me. I care about you so much.” 

“I am fine, Darling.”

“No, you aren’t,” you frown and your eyes begin to look watery, “I can see you, Astarion. You are panicking. I am so sorry. Everything is okay- I am not going to leave you or hurt you and I still think the world of you. It was just a… well I don’t know what it was, but it’s okay. I promise.”

 It’s like the first rays of sun through the tent in the morning- your voice calls to him as it does when he is having nightmares. 

 The person who hid away long ago, the 39 year old boy who had been tricked- is peering through the fog and at you. Astarion feels as desperate as he did the moment he was dying- he needs help and instead of Cazador looming over him, you are offering a healing hand. 

 The boy who needed someone like you is awakening within him as you continue to coax him back to life. His tears are falling, his heart is broken- he isn’t sure he wants to be experiencing the cathartic sensation of finally letting go of some of the pain that has been etched into his body- into his soul. 

 He also didn’t mean to make the situation about himself, but you don’t seem to mind. Of course you don’t- why would you? You are you.

“You are safe here with me. I won’t let anyone hurt you- I won’t ever hurt you. I promise. Just like I know you won’t let anyone hurt me.” 

 You trust him to keep you safe. You believe that he is capable of doing so.

 The entire dam breaks- he bursts into tears uncharacteristically and his sobs are broken and raw. Astarion holds onto you like Karlach does Clive. 

 He doesn’t remember when you hugged him back, but he is finally brought completely back after several moments of embracing each other. Your shoulder is drenched in tears and he is still shaking, but he is more aware now.

 Safe. It is safe here. 

 “I didn’t mean it,” he whispers.

“I know you didn’t.”

“I shouldn’t have said that.”

“I forgive you,” you say firmly, “I-I was upset and I know other people being displeased hasn’t been the best experience for you. I will try to communicate my frustrations and needs better next time.” 

“And I won’t do something as stupid as kiss Shadowheart again.”

“You are allowed to do whatever you please.”

“I know and I will actually tell her, ‘no’.”

 Your brows are furrowed, “what do you mean?”

“Gale made me realize that I am allowed to say no.”

 You blink a few times, a flash of guilt crosses your face, and then you press a quick kiss to his cheek- it’s your turn to wipe his tears away and you smile at him sadly.

“You are always allowed to say no and if someone has an issue with it, then they are going to have to answer to those fangs and my long sword.” 

 Your words are like music to his ears.

 He takes your bed roll from the ground, rolls his out as it should be and then covers it with yours. You both climb into the covers- your body heat is like an antidote to his poisoned mind. The fear continues to ebb away. 

 Astarion lays his head against your chest and you stroke his hair. He hums happily against your sweat sheened skin. Your tank top sticks to you, but the spots where he lays seem to be drying up a bit more. 

 He loves how fundamentally alive you are. Astarion has never been able to enjoy another person’s presence and cuddling is the only act that has never been ruined for him. He loves the ability to hear your heart thrumming through your chest and your blood in your veins. Every breath reminds him to breath and he seems to always follow your rhythm. His favorite is when you fall asleep.

 Your breathes are soft and slow- your heart is lazy and you are in a deep, deep sleep. You have a predator cuddling with you- one that you have given permission to drink from you at any point- and yet you sleep as sound as a babe. Your trust in him means more than words could ever say. 

 How many nights had he spent terrified and afraid in Cazador’s company? Or in the kennels? Sometimes even locked away in a crypt and once his own coffin!

 The night he would have a moment for a cuddle, he would lay against them or vice versa, but he knew their death was on the way and it felt wrong. It felt like he was lying to them and it bothered him more than he would ever openly admit to anyone- well, besides you maybe. 

 Now, he listens to the heartbeat of the ‘Hero’ in the grand scheme of things and he knows he will awaken to you tomorrow morning. You will have a smile on your face and lead this group to that Gods awful forge- bravery and confidence in your stance even though you are basically facing impossible odds. 

 And he trusts you. Astarion will be by your side with both of his daggers ready to strike at your word and he knows the same goes for you towards him. 

  For the first time in 200 years, Astarion lets himself believe that he may truly end up being free of Cazador. As long as you are by his side, anything is possible.

Taglist: Tag list: @preciouslittlebhaalbae @xxgrimripp3rxx @alice4wonderland2812 @therobishow @m1ster1e @tragicdruid @katsutoria @aristenfromwarsaw @avabjorna36 @frankie-mercury @golden-baby

[beardedjoel]

new addiction

boss!joel x f!reader one shot collection | part two

summary: you’ve been fantasizing about your boss, but when he leaves you a mysterious note to meet him after work hours, everything changes.

warnings: 18+! MDNI! non-apocalypse au, boss!joel is a lil mean but not too mean, oral sex (m receiving), dirty talk, unprotected piv, spit kink, size kink kinda, panty stealing? does that need a tag idk, this is a filthy nasty fic and i love it

word count: 4k

a/n: basically just a shamless one shot of joel being your boss and you getting to fuck him, this is not my most proof read work i’ve ever posted but i hope you all like it! inspired by the new taylor swift song “i can see you” it’s literally my religion right now

You feel the crinkle of the paper in your hands another time, staring down at it as if the words on the page are going to change any time soon. You read over the simple phrasing, almost wanting to trace your fingers over the inking just to check that it’s truly real.

my office

6pm

JM

You’ve been working for Mr. Miller - Joel, he told you to call him, but old habits die hard - for a little over four months now. You’d always been taught to refer to any person of authority this way, so it was taking some getting used to to just call him Joel. 

This has been the longest four months of your life, mostly due to the man in question - Joel fucking Miller, your boss, the man responsible for your livelihood, the man you absolutely should not be pining over. How you can stop lusting after him is beyond you when he looks like that - his dark hair has grown out a bit since you started, brown curls flecked with gray that match his beard traveling down his neck now. Curls you dream of sinking your hands into and tugging in the heat of the moment every single day. Every time his dark brown eyes catch yours during conversation, you have to fight your mind to stay on track.  Watching his lips move, wondering what they’d feel like on yours, on any part of your body. It’s been completely mind bending, the attraction you feel for him. 

It all started a few weeks ago, when you started to wonder if the attraction was mutual. At first, it was a sidelong glance that lasted a bit too long here and there, then a few times where he brushed his body a little too close to yours, and you’d feel the heat of it linger long after he was gone. You could scarcely breathe when he got that close to you, a few times he’d hovered behind you at your desk to look at something on the computer with you and you wondered how you weren’t combusting, flames dancing across your skin. The moment you’d felt his hot breath on your neck, you fought hard not to shudder, and when one slipped by, you cursed yourself, hoping Joel hadn’t noticed. You’d thought maybe he hadn’t, but he suggested as he walked away that maybe you get a sweater to wear inside if you were so cold.

Fucking asshole.

He had to know the effect he was having on you. No matter how hard you tried to hide it, he was flirting in his own, restrained way. The most you’d gotten out of him was when he put one of his large, my god, so large, hands on your lower back as he’d breezed past you in the small, cramped employee break room to get to the coffee machine. 

“‘Scuse me, doll,” he’d said gruffly as he passed, and you nearly choked upon hearing the little pet name from him. Doll… you’d rolled the word around in your mind the entire rest of the day, amazed you could get any work done.

It was a small office - just a little, rented space to run his contracting business out of, and you’d been hired on to do any kind of admin work, really. There wasn’t any kind of official job title, you’d just been needed to tend to the books, appointments, and making sure everything was in order. It wasn’t a bad gig, not your dream job by any means, but now that you’d fallen deeply into your infatuation with your boss, of all people, it was making it hard to want to leave. 

And if you’re honest with yourself, you should want to find a new job - Joel can be, well, an asshole, to put it mildly. He doesn’t have time for bullshit, and he makes that perfectly clear to everyone in his vicinity. All the employees at the construction sites and office do revere him, and know he’s one of the best in Austin to learn from and have on your resume as far as contracting goes. On his good days, however, he really is a pleasure to have around, and you relish in the times you get to see his warm smile and hear him laugh at one of his employees busting his balls. On those days, you can see the speck of hope that keeps the people around him in his life.

Joel typically stops in at least once a day before rushing off to check on things at his job sites, and sometimes you do worry he’s wearing himself too thin. He comes in looking exhausted some days, snapping easily and drinking copious amounts of coffee. But you have to constantly remind yourself that’s not for you to worry about - you aren’t his wife, his girlfriend, his anything. You can’t fight off the desire to be something for him, though, wanting to be there for him, to provide some kind of release for him on those tightly wound days. From there, your mind drifts to the deepest corners of depravity, thinking of all the ways you could help him release.

On one such stressful day, he dropped a note on your desk, so quickly in passing anyone else in the room might have missed it. He didn’t bother to look back at you afterwards, leaving you wide eyed, staring down at the small piece of paper that was folded in half as he continued on to his office.

You felt like you were floating the entire day, anticipation boiling in your gut as you wondered if this note could mean what you think it does. By the time 5:45 rolls around, Joel having breezed back into the building and shutting himself in his office thirty minutes ago, you’ve decided you’re either getting canned or fucked tonight, and both options are making you so nervous you might jump out of your own skin. The few people left in the office pack up for the day and head out, leaving you pretending to finish up work as you wave goodbye to them.

You stand up right on time, smoothing down the short pencil skirt you’re wearing before breathing deeply and reaching for the doorknob to his office. You knock as you open the door, poking your head in. Joel looks up from his desk, where he’d had his forehead on his palm, looking over some paperwork.

“See you got my note,” he says, his voice slightly hoarse from a day of likely speaking and barking orders at his various job sites. “Shut the door behind ya,” Joel adds, and you feel your heart jump further into your throat, a slightly shaky hand shutting the door behind you as he asks. 

“Sure. Er, what’s this about, Mr. Miller?” You fidget with your hands in front of you, resting them on your belly as you wait expectantly. 

“Joel, remember?” he replies with a cocky smile. You still haven’t quite figured out his intentions, and at this point, you figure it could go either way, and you’re bracing yourself internally for either losing your job or what could be the best sex of your life.

“Right,” you say with a shaky chuckle. “Nervous habit, sorry… Joel.”

“Nothin’ to be nervous about, why don’t ya come on in,” Joel says genially, a hint of a smirk pulling at his lips at hearing you say his name. 

You slowly make your way to the chair that’s across from his desk, a cluttered mess that you’ve learned is organized in his own way, as he always seems to be able to find everything he needs despite you offering many times to help organize it for him. S’okay, I’ve got a system, he’d repeat every single time, so eventually you’d given up on asking.

“How was your day? You seem stressed,” you dare to ask as you sit down, and Joel quirks a brow at you.

“Same old bullshit,” he says breezily, rubbing a hand down his face and pushing the papers on his desk aside, focusing his attention on you. “So fuckin’ stressed, but you don’t need to worry about all of that.”

“What if…” you start, swallowing hard. Now or fucking never. If you’re about to possibly lose your job, you may as well go out with all you’ve got. “What if I did worry about that?” you blink a few times, eyelashes fluttering in his direction and Joel gives you an indiscernible look, but you swear his eyes go a shake darker. “Just, that you’re stressed, I mean. Isn’t it my job to help you?”

Joel barely even reacts other than a flicker across his eyes that you only notice because you’re looking so intently. The bastard was probably prepared for this, like he knew you’d come in here ready to flirt your little heart out if the situation called for it.

Fucking. Asshole. But an extremely hot asshole with his eyes trained right on yours, making you melt instantly and forgetting all about the cursing him you were doing in your head.

“That so?” Joel says slowly with an amused, deep chuckle. He stands up, making his way around the desk towards you, and your heart picks up, practically beating out of your chest now. “That in your job description, hm? Help ol’ Mr. Miller when he’s stressed?” 

His tone, his body language, everything is screaming green lights for you to continue this witty repartee. “It could be, if you wanted it to,” you reply, squaring your shoulders back, not cowering from his gaze, but rather intensifying yours with a small pout of your lips. Joel’s movements over to you are slow and calculated, practically sauntering until he’s standing in front of you. He absolutely towers over you now, more than usual, his broad shoulders looking even wider from your angle below him. He leans back on the desk, perching on the edge, giving you a direct view at his crotch, a now very apparent bulge in his jeans.

“Pretty thing like you’d really want to do all that for me?” Joel asks.

You lick your lips, trying to steady your breathing. “Mhm,” you sound, and your confirmation is enough to have Joel leaning forward, placing a hand on your cheek, fingers ghosting along the skin as he makes his way down to your neck, the light trace of his calloused pads sending goosebumps along your arms.

“Like the way I’m touchin’ you, pretty girl?” he asks quietly, and you manage to let out another affirmative noise. You watch his thick fingers tracing down the top of your chest, silently begging please keep going, please. When his hand reaches the top button of your shirt, he pauses, and your legs squeeze together in anticipation. You nearly whine when he withdraws his hand, but seconds later he’s using a finger to tip your chin up, indicating for you to stand.

You meet him against his desk, his legs opening wide for you to step in between them, and you press in close, feeling unsure of what to do with your hands, how far he wants to take things. You delicately place a hand on his thigh to steady yourself, and he slips his arms around you, immediately sliding them down your back and to your ass.

“Fuck,” he mumbles as he squeezes your ass firmly through your skirt. “Such a sexy little thing, you wear this for me?”

“You’ve caught me,” you say with a sly look. The skirt isn’t anything that scandalous, but you do suppose it shows more of your legs than may typically be deemed appropriate in an office setting. You’ve always blamed the more skimpy clothing you’d wear on the hot Austin climate, but you know in the back of your mind, it was all always for Joel.

“Don’t have to wear all this to get my attention, y’know,” he says a little more tenderly, still kneading the globes of your ass hungrily, pulling your skirt up in the process.

“Seemed like you enjoyed it, all those times I saw you watch me leave your office,” you quip back.

“Damn right I did, ‘m only human, darlin’,” he says gruffly, yanking you forward, and the hardness in his jeans is pressing right into your own throbbing heat, sending a swirling wave of desire in between your legs. Slickness is gathering there quickly, leaving your underwear already wet and uncomfortable against your skin.

“On your knees, now,” Joel says, pushing you down by your shoulders until you bow under the pressure, getting down onto the carpet and sitting on your knees. “That’s a good girl,” he says with a smirk. He makes quick work of his belt and zipper, freeing his cock within moments, and it takes everything in you not to gasp at the sight laid before you.

His cock is beyond what you’d imagined - he’s a big guy overall, but you can’t say you’ve ever been with someone his size, and it’s immediately intimidating. And the bastard knows it, you can tell by his coy little smile as you look at his throbbing cock with wide eyes, taking in the size of him at full attention. You take a little comfort in the fact that he seems painfully turned on by you, the head of his cock leaking pre-cum, pink and pulsating for any part of you to be on it.

“Go on now, doll, ain’t got all night,” Joel says, snapping you out of your reverence for his cock, and you glance up to him before placing a few kisses on the head. Joel hisses through his teeth, his hips bucking forward at your face. When you lap up the drop of precum, swirling your tongue with your eyes locked on his, he lets out a full groan. You hover over his cock, letting your drool collect and fall down onto his shaft in a long string, and the warmth of it brings out a frustrated growl from Joel. He watches with darkened eyes, and his hand shoots to the back of your head, gripping your hair tightly.

“Knew you’d be so fuckin’ dirty, such a little tease,” he growls out. He uses your hair to tilt your head back, so your neck is craned up, facing him more directly now. “If you’re gonna act like that, be willin’ to take it in return, sweetheart,” Joel says more coldly. “Open your mouth.” It’s not an ask, but a command, and the authoritarian in him makes you want to listen. You pop your mouth open, shaking a little bit under his tight grip as you watch him gather his own saliva and let it slowly fall out of his mouth, straight down into yours. You taste the strangeness of the sensation, never having had someone else's spit in your mouth in such a copious amount.

“Now swallow,” he demands, and you make a show of swallowing hard, eliciting a devious smile from Joel. “And get back to work,” he says, loosening his grip on your hair and pushing your head back to the level of his cock, dripping and awaiting your mouth.

You immediately slide your mouth down his shaft, not wanting any more pushback from Joel on your teasing, and you taste the saltiness of him as your mouth stretches more than you’re sure you can accommodate. You start to bob more quickly, savoring the myriad of groans and hums Joel makes in the height of his pleasure. 

“Fuck… your mouth’s even better than I ‘magined,” Joel says, his hips thrusting in time with your bobbing, sending his cock back further into your throat. A gag slips out, but you swallow him down, allowing him even deeper as your hand works on the rest of him that won’t fit inside of your mouth. He inhales sharply before pushing you back by the shoulders, his cock leaving your mouth with a loud pop.

You barely have time to be confused by the sudden interruption before Joel pulls you up under the arms, spinning you and flattening you against his desk, and you scramble to slide back, papers and office supplies spilling and moving everywhere. He flings a frustrated hand to clear it out of the way, sending everything flying onto the floor, and you stare wide-eyed, thinking this kind of thing only happens in the movies. And here you are, living in a real life fucking movie.

Joel grips your face, turning your attention back his way before crashing his lips into yours, ravenous kisses and swipes of his tongue taking over every sense. You moan, grinding your hips into him as you return the energy of his kisses, pulling back to trace your lips along his chin, the roughness of his beard scratching your face before you reach his earlobe, giving it a few gentle sucks.

“Shit,” Joel hisses out, pushing down your chest to have you lay back on the desk. He tugs under your knees, pulling you to the edge and hiking up your skirt in the process. His hand slides up your thigh, and you’re panting in anticipation, knowing he’s about to see the very evidence of your arousal absolutely soaking your lace panites. When Joel hooks his thumbs in the sides, pulling them down, he makes a satisfied huff at the slick, shining stain that’s left on the black fabric.

“Now that’s a sight…” Joel says, holding the panties up before slipping them into his back pocket. “Didn’t know you’d wanted to help me de-stress this badly, darlin’, would’ve called you in here ages ago,” he teases you with a wry chuckle, clearly enjoying the very compromising position he has you in.

“I do,” you say impatiently. “Didn’t know if it was okay to… you’re my boss.” 

“More than okay. Y’see, I’ve been thinkin’ the same thing f’ a while now, havin’ to resist such a perfect little thing that walked right into my office one day.” He tuts with frustration, tightening his grip on your thighs. “Seen you watch me like you couldn't wait to get that mouth on this cock, sugar.”

You nod, confirming everything he said was true. “I j-ust see you so worked up, so much on your shoulders, Joel. Let me…” you heave, “Take it all out on me.”

You tempt him to take that next step, wrapping your legs around his hips, your ankles crossing over each other to pull him even closer. 

“Sure you ain’t gonna tell anyone about this?” Joel asks with a few huffs, clearly holding back from what he really desires right now. His body is radiating the unmet need of release that’s throbbing from his every pore right down to his painfully hard cock.

You shake your head wildly, the back of your head moving along the desk. You sit up enough to peer at him and make sure he knows you’re serious. 

“Our little secret,” you whisper huskily, letting a smile curl onto your lips. 

“Good girl.” Joel returns the smile, one much more cunning as his features darken and he pushes his hard cock against your opening, the large head alone already making your hips twitch with pleasure. When he pushes in you make a small whimper, but try to stuff it down quickly as he stretches you with a beautiful sting along your opening. 

“Fu… oh my god,” you murmur, as he pushes in further and further, until you’re sure you couldn’t possibly be more full of him. When he moves past even that point, you groan and realize he’s fully seated inside of you, deeper than you’d ever imagined was even possible. You quickly pulsate around him, your body adjusting to his size until it starts to feel more pleasurable than painful.

“There we go, look at that…” Joel says breathlessly. “Takin’ this cock so pretty, aren’t ya?” He doesn’t even take a beat before he begins thrusting, his massive hands holding tightly onto your hips to steady you as you jostle back onto the desk. Your back arches into the pounding of your two bodies together, warmth growing from deep inside of you where he’s hitting so perfectly. You decide that while you’d made this about him, you wanted to fulfill a fantasy of your own while you had the chance. You’d daydreamed of a certain scenario countless times over the weeks, one you intended to have come to life and turn out to be even better than you could have imagined.

“Fuck me over your desk, Mr. Miller,” you say, an extra bite on the last words, knowing he won’t correct you on his name this time. He growls, a noise deep in his throat at your words.

“Want me to bend you over ‘n fuck you right on this desk, d’ya?” Joel asks, not even allowing you to answer before pulling out of you. You brace yourself on the desk, hopping off and immediately turning around, standing up and pressing the entire length of your body back onto Joel’s. You reach an arm up around his neck and pull him down for a kiss, and he lets out a low hum, grinding into your back.

He doesn’t let it last, though, the tender kiss, before he pushes you down with the palm of his hand on your back, guiding you to rest with your ass out and body pressed low onto the desk. You pant hard, feeling slick gathering between your legs all over again at how close you are to fulfilling your ultimate fantasy with him.

Joel has no mercy, slamming his cock into you, and this angle is completely devastating, ready to ruin you at any moment as your legs immediately begin to shake when his cock hits against your walls hard. He thrusts into you over and over, and you can’t help but be anything but loud, moaning out his name and every expletive that comes to mind as you practically go wild over the way he pumps you so full each and every time. You feel tears sting your eyes, the release trying to build to a crescendo deep in your core. 

One of Joel’s hands finds your clit, rubbing tight circles and you fold, completely undone at the large pad of his finger starting to coax your climax out of you. 

“C’mon, let me feel you come on this cock, know you’ve been wantin’ to,” Joel says haughtily, and you give in to the sensation, letting the waves of practically transcendent pleasure overtake you as you come hard, screaming Joel’s name in the process.

“Fuck, sweetheart, I’m gonna - “ Joel says in the midst of your writhing, moaning mess, before being cut off by his own orgasm being pulled from your pussy squeezing his cock. He quickly pulls out, letting himself spill onto your back with a few extra jerks of his cock, the ropes of cum warm on your skin. Joel breathes heavily, caught off guard by the intensity and quickness of his climax, knowing he nearly didn’t make it.

“Jesus, sugar, gonna make a man fuckin’ crazy with a pussy like that,” Joel purrs, using a tissue to begrudgingly clean up your back - he’d thought you’d looked much better all flushed and covered in his cum, and was already plotting a way to see it again and again.

You hum a satisfied sigh, turning back to look at him before sitting up and settling on the edge of the desk. “Glad I could help, boss,” you say teasingly, and Joel already feels another twitch in his cock at your toying with him. “You still stressed?” you ask, batting your eyelashes innocently.

“You’ve no fuckin’ idea…” Joel sighs. “Got a whole new set of problems now,” he says, looking you over with greedy eyes.

“Well, you know where to find me, if you ever need any help with that,” you say with a wink before hopping off the desk and breezing out of his office, daring a last look back at him.

[bootlegramdomneess]

Hello! If is okay I would like to ask you something about how you interpret this aspect of show as a therapist.

Why do you think is Sydney the one that calls Carmy’s panick attacks? (the one in opening day, and that moment in “doors” when she calms him down when he is screaming they are to slow, and because of her, he calms down and the frantic music stops)

Does it had to do with love (even though I also think they are in love) or is because of trust and the bond they share? Secure attachment kind of thing? Is it because the particular type of abuse he has suffered? Or is something about Sydney’s personality? Would love your take on that.

Thank you 🙏🏼

ooo. Thanks for the question. Okay, there are a lot of layers to this

In season one we see Sydney coming into the beef during a time where Carmy was trying to get everyone to understand what he was trying to do, and meeting Sydney, he saw she understood where he was coming from. It had to be a big relief. I think Carmy comes from a space of feeling as though no one truly understands him or who he is. I think meeting Sydney was a shock to his system because here was someone who understood what he was trying to do at the Beef. Here was someone who shared the same vision as him. Similar ideas. Similar plans. Who is passionate about cooking. Here was a person who knew the part of his life (Being a chef) he didn't share with anyone. As time went on, he connected with her on a professional level, he depended on her, he relied on her in a way, i think, he never has with anyone in the kitchen. Sydney has this way about her that can be very disarming. Disarming to the point where he felt comfortable enough to be vulnerable with her in telling her about his Al-anon meetings. I think by the end of the season, he tried to subconsciously sabotage this relationship by exploding on her, but still invited her back into his life---despite her challenging his core beliefs of no one understanding him or he has to do things on his own. Or he can't get close to anyone.

2. In season 2 we see a shift in their dynamic where trust has been built. They've grown closer. They're having conversations about their personal lives. They're giving each other advice. They've built this little family inside the restaurant. Sydney is slowly now integrated into his family. They're literally building their future together. But here Carmy goes, sabotaging things (by bringing the C person into the dynamic) again because his relationship with Sydney is once again challenging his core beliefs. This is the theme I'm starting to notice.

3. Carmy admires Sydney. He values her opinion. He sees interpersonal skills she brings into the kitchen, and into their dynamic, that he wants to mirror himself. (This is partway why he is ALWAYS watching her)

He constantly asks if things are okay between them. He doesn't lie to her. (outside of omitting who the C person was). He tries his best to articulate his feelings to her without her prompting. When he said "I don't want to do this without you. I can't do this without you. You make me better at this." He meant that shit. That is so hard to admit out loud for him because the emotional stakes and the fear of rejection is so high for him. it's obvious he holds her in such high regard because he does not do or say any of those things to anyone else in his life. He ignores them. He shuts them out. He avoids. He doesn't communicate. (Just look at his entire dynamic with the C person. Just look at how he's shut her out completely).

4.This season he feels so ashamed and upset that he left Sydney alone. "I left you alone." After promising to her various times, he won't do that. He is devastated by this. he was yelling GET SYDNEY when he was locked in the freezer because he left her alone. So now he's gone into the extreme mode to try and fix it the things between them even though she didn't feel he abandoned her.

He told Sydney to check him if he's fucking up. He trusts he will listen to her when she does and correct himself. We are now at a point where he does not want to fuck shit up with her anymore. He is now allowing Sydney's presence in his life to challenge his core belief without sabotaging it. I think, Carmy has already casually admitted in his mind that he has strong feelings for Sydney, but I think he's put it in a deli and stored it on a shelf for various Carmy reasons.

So, when Sydney checks him in the kitchen, tells him to calm down, he listens. Sydney doesn't view Carmy as broken. Despite knowing he has anxiety and panic attacks. Despite his emotional issues, despite his family dysfunction. I think Sydney views him as someone who can hold it together. She doesn't coddle him because she sees he is trying and has the ability to get his act together. When she says: "So don't fuck up" is a great example of that.

Sydney is clear in her expectations of him. She holds him accountable. Sydney is gentle and disarming and forgiving in a way he is not with himself and he recognizes he needs that. Him being able to calm down when she tells him to, is her shaping his behavior. His thoughts of her helping him calm from a panic attack is because he trusts her voice. She is the port in the storm. She is the only one he trusts enough to be this way with him. Because he is in love with her.

[dreamyyesenia]

Always Keep Simming - Colin‘s Birthright

Colin entered the Magic Realm’s Headquarters. He didn’t remember anything about this place and still, as he searched for the office of the headmaster, a strange feeling overtook him. As if something inside him stirred and had opened an eye. The air was thick with magic and so different from the real world. It filled him with energy and he felt more alive than ever. Finally, he arrived at the office of the headmaster, the sage of mischief magic - Jenna Blackburn.

This got so long sorry 🙈 keep reading below ⬇️

Master Blackburn was not surprised to see her grandson. She‘d already predicted his arrival and felt his magic the moment he had entered the Magic Realm. Colin had never seen his grandmother in person before but he wasn’t interested in long conversations. He had read a lot on Jenna Blackburn during his research. He‘d come to the conclusion that she was a cunning spellcaster, not to be trusted and definitely not in the slightest sentimental. In fact, his grandmother started the conversation by saying „Well, I was thinking you’d never come to claim your birthright. Seems I’ve been wrong and you have more Spellcaster blood in you than I thought.“ „I’m not interested in any birthright. I need help“, Colin explained. He was already starting to get annoyed and regret coming here but there was no turning back. So, he kept it short and to the point: He told her that he needed help dealing with forces from space. The only occult that could stand against alien magic were the spellcasters, as they could protect their mind and body with spells. Thus, Colin asked his grandmother to grant him one wish: To protect his family. However, Master Blackburn was not one to grant any wishes without getting something for herself in return. His grandmother surveyed him critically. „I have a proposal for you...“ „I‘d do anything“, Colin said quickly. „If you want to protect your family, you‘ll do it yourself. You are a Blackburn after all. Surrender to me, let me unlock your magic, teach you. Become a Master Spellcaster and continue my legacy“, she proposed. „Continue your legacy?“, Colin asked confused. „You don’t mean..“. „I do. I‘ll make you the next greatest spellcaster after me and you’ll have the power to protect your family. In exchange, you will claim your birthright and become my rightful heir“, Jenna Blackburn explained. „It’s the least you can do really, you are the reason my precious son ran away with that non-magical creature that was your mother and got himself killed. I don’t have an heir and cannot grant leadership to the other sages, the entire Magic Realm would perish“, she explained. Colin was conflicted. He couldn’t deny that ever since he‘d found out about the origins of his biological parents, he’d been curious about the Magic Realm, about what it would be like to possess magic. But after what had happened to his parents, he had sworn to himself and to his adoptive parents that he’d never go down this road. His father had put a spell on him that could only be broken by the same blood. It surpressed his magic so that his grandmother couldn’t find him outside of the Magic Realm. Until this moment, he’d stilled his thirst of knowledge by studying the history of all other kinds of occults instead. Becoming a sage wasn’t what he had imagined for his future but he’d make it work. He was a professor after all and had excellent management skills. He‘d just find someone to stay in the Magic Realm in his stead for the time he was at home. He‘d agree to anything at this point, just to protect his family.

„Alright, then. Do it“, Colin said. His grandmother stood behind him, her wand raised and with a triumphant smile on her face. „I hereby free your magic. When my remaining days are spent, you will take over my place as the headmaster of the Magic Realm and you will remain in this Realm forever. You will be bound to this Realm. For eternity. If you leave the Magic Realm after becoming a sage, your entire family will be cursed and perish.“

[redgoldsparks]

September Reading and Reviews by Maia Kobabe

I post my reviews throughout the month on Storygraph and Goodreads, and do roundups here and on patreon. Reviews below the cut.

Who Was Her Own Work of Art? Frida Kahlo by Terry Blas and Ashanti Fortson A short but sweet glimpse into the period of Frida Kahlo's life when she was beginning to mount solo shows of her paintings in New York and Paris. I loved the bright colors, tender character designs, and the reconstructions of conversations she may have overheard at her gallery openings. In no way a complete biography, but instead a little window into the life of a passionate artist.

Electric Bones volume 1 by Hazel and Bell Lucian is the son of a minor nobleman and the CEO of the galaxy's biggest AI company, but he's not so rich that he can't get in trouble. After being fired as a programmer from Echo Station he joined a startup with a couple friends and is now fishing for funding at an elite tech expo on board an expensive and exclusive space vessel. There he sees someone he thinks he recognizes- Ezra, a grey robot, an fully sentient AI who worked on Echo Station as a researcher and partially cost Lucian his job. So why is Ezra now working on the space vessel as an escort? Unless it's not Ezra, but just a look-alike robot model? These questions drag Lucian into the beginnings of tangled web of intrigue which include kidnapping, AI-hacking, and murder. I've been reading this story online as a webcomic for years; you can still read all of volume one here: https://electricbonescomic.com/index.... But last year I also backed the kickstarter, and just sat down to re-read the whole story in print form, including a sexy little bonus comic. I love these characters, I love the rich colors, the lovely sense of flow and design of the pages. I can't wait for volume two! Re-read in September: Each time I read this volume I see more in... creepy little hints for the futrue!

The Boys in the Boat by Daniel James Brown read by Edward Herrmann I picked this up after watching the film of the same name. It's a very well researched history of the University of Washington men's eight rowing team, a bunch of boys raised during the worst of the Great Depression, working their assess off to represent the US at the 1936 Olympics. The book follows Joe Rantz most closely, in huge part because he was one of the few members of the team still alive and available to interview when the author began the book. However, several of the others kept diaries or wrote letters which the author also had access to. There's a lot of background on the era, both the economic hardships of the Depression and Dust Bowl in the US, and also the way Joseph Goebbels planned the entire Berlin Olympics as a massive propaganda project to fool the West into thinking that Germany wasn't planning war. I thought the book was a little longer than it needed to be, but overall enjoyed it as a good audiobook to keep me company during work hours. As always, the truth of the story is even stranger and more dramatic than the version of this story that made it to film!

A Prayer for the Crown-Shy by Becky Chambers read by Emmett Grosland Dex, the traveling tea-monk who befriended a robot in the wilds, now brings their friend Mosscap back down to the human-inhabited parts of the world. Like the first book, this is a gentle story, told more in a series of linked vignettes than an over-arching plot. I enjoyed the exploration of whether essence of self is rooted in the body, and to what extent consciousness and personality transcend the body while still being undeniable linked. However, like the first book in this series, there just isn't quite enough plot to satisfy me. I read this because I've decided I'm a Becky Chambers completest, but I don't personally recommend this series as the best place to start with her work- I point readers instead towards the standalone To Be Taught If Fortunate.

Tove Jansson: Work and Love by Tuula Karjalainen translated by David McDuff A wonderful deep dive into the long, creative life of Tove Jansson, the Finnish-Swedish artist behind the Moomintrolls. Tove was also a painter, a cartoonist, involved in theater, sculpture, and a writer of several prose novels and short story collections. She was born during the period of WW1 and WW2 overshadowed her twenties and early thirties, but she spent those years drawing cutting political cartoons against fascism and violence, as well as developing her gallery career, setting up her first studio, and falling in and out of several impactful love affairs. She seems to have accepted her own queerness or bisexuality without much internal struggle and lived as openly as was possible as the time. She turned down several proposals of marriage but happily in mid-life met an artist who became her life-long partner and sometime inspiration and collaborator. The two of them built a little cabin on a very small and barren island in the Finnish archipelago and spent summers there for nearly thirty years- partly to avoid the fame Tove received because of the global love of the Moomins. This book was translated and I do think at times it wander a bit or retreads some material, but I loved how rich it was in color illustrations. Always a pleasure to read about an artist's path.

No Rules Tonight by Kim Hyun Sook and Ryan Estrada Set in South Korea in the early 1980s, this comic follows up Banned Book Club in which college student Hyun Sook discovered a friend group of students reading books deemed illegal and dangerous by the government. During South Korea's Fifth Republic, a military regime, students could be beaten or jailed for owning banned books. But even under an authoritarian government, college students are still college students: learning, growing, questioning their identities, looking for trouble, romance, and ways to subvert the rules. Set on a camping trip during winter break, this book follows a group of students, including Hyun Sook, with conflicting motivations and interests as they decide who to trust and who they want to become. A timely story about the power of art, literature, theater, and community to resist fascism. Despite the real danger, it's full of humor and deeply human moments. I had the chance to read this book ahead of its release- look for it on shelves in early October!

Tokyo These Days vol 1 by Taiyo Matsumoto Manga editor Shiozawa decides to quit his job after a magazine he founded folds. He plans to find some hobbies and start a new life. But manga won't let go of him so easily. Editor colleagues continue to ask him for help, especially with their more difficult artist clients. He has to pay last visits to artists he worked with in the past, which often turn into emotional conversations. He tries to sell his entire manga collection to a used bookstore, but at the last minute has a change of heart and keeps it. Then he decides he wants to work on one more story. But who to ask to write and draw it? This is an elegant, understated book about how deep the comics industry gets under your skin, and the very wide variety of people who fall for manga and can't let it go, even after it's broken their hearts.

Ash’s Cabin by Jen Wang High schooler Ash feels misunderstood by their family and the world, their need for quiet, their passion for the environment, and their developing identity all overlooked in the loud busyness of life. While the rest of the family plans a summer vacation to Disneyland, Ash plans their own escape: heading up into the hills of the family ranch near Mount Shasta to find the cabin where their late grandfather lived close to the land. This story is so elegantly told and elegantly drawn, with large amounts of white space on the pages balancing the delicate warm-toned watercolor panels. I've been a fan of Jen Wang's comics for over a decade and I'm so impressed how each one is so different from, but equally as rich and wonderful, as the last!

The Deep Dark by Molly Knox Ostertag This was exceptional. Mags, a recent high school graduate, lives a carefully controlled life. She cares for her aging grandmother, she works her restaurant shifts, she doesn't party, she doesn't let anyone get too close, even the girl she's sleeping with, who has a boyfriend. Also, she's feeding a dangerous secret, something fanged and strange that lives in the dark. Then Mags' careful routine is disrupted when a friend from childhood, Nessa, turns to the little town outside Joshua Tree where they both grew up. Nessa is being chased by a darkness of her own, and wants answers about a confusing childhood memory. The storytelling, the page layouts, the mixed use of color and black and white, all combined to build such delicious tension in this queer horror tale. Highly recommend!

The Pale Queen by Ethan M Aldridge A beautifully illustrated original queer fairy tale. Agatha, the daughter of a miner, dreams of a university education but it seems out of reach to a country girl. Then she encounters a pale magical woman from the forest, who tricks Agatha into owing her a favor. This turns into a series of tasks with increasingly dangerous consequences. I loved the watercolors, especially during scenes set at night. The story is aimed at fairly young readers, but still engaging for an adult.

The Book Eaters by Sunyi Dean read by Katie Erich Devon is a single mother on the run from an abusive family, living undocumented in England, a borderline alcoholic, searching from town to town for a contact who will lead her to the people who make the medicine her young son needs to be safe. Devon also isn't human; super strong, impervious to cold, she can see in the dark and the species she comes from eat books to survive. She has perfect recall of every text she's ever eaten but none of them help much in her current precarious state. Woven through this tense narrative is a second timeline of Devon's past. Raised as a precious and rare daughter of an old book eater family, she grew up in a manor house on the moors, treated like a princess- one whose marriage and reproductive choices were entirely controlled by the powerful men around her. When Devon rebelled, her first child was taken from her. But her second was born with a complicated and dangerous hunger, and a need to kill in order to survive. This is a dark story, a thriller with fantasy elements, with content warnings for violence, gore, rape, cannibalism, alcohol abuse and physical abuse. I found it a gripping listen on audio, and I enjoyed the narrator's northern English accent, well chosen for the setting of the story. But it's not a light read and at times Devon's depression and despair were hard to sit with. Take care that you are in the right space of mind to enjoy this story before you start it.

Out of Left Field by Jonah Newman This coming of age comic spans Jonah's four years of high school, including crushes, dates, a first sexual experience, and that teen classic, joining a sports team to impress a boy and gain popularity. Jonah is a nerdy, closeted gay freshman with few friends when he joins the team. On the team he gains confidence and a spot in the school cafeteria- but he also fails to stand up to his teammates when they make increasingly sexist and homophobic things about other students. I enjoyed the complexity of Jonah's relationship with a female best friend, and with a boy he wants to date, but isn't comfortable being seen with in public. The book doesn't have a neat ending; the messy way some characters interactions end mirrors of confusion of teen years.

Life Lines by Jason Martin Bay Area Cartoonist Jason Martin collections stories from across his long memoir comics career in this, his second anthology. The stories relate friendships, experience touring with bands, working temp jobs, his life-long love of music, tabling at comic conventions, and the kind of mundane moments which crystalize into perfect gems when held and examined so tenderly. Martin's writing is compassionate and clear, and it holds a kind mirror up to a familiar world.

[the-rollerchloster]

Parasocial relationships are strange. Parasocial relationships in a fandom like this one can be even stranger.

I want to preface this by saying that everyone is entitled to their feelings, and feelings are sometimes completely irrational. I am also aware that sometimes our feelings are driven by incomplete thoughts, and have a tendency to overwhelm us and those around us before we can process them. In saying that, I have seen a lot of conflicting emotions and reactions to the reveal that Misha Collins has a "serious" girlfriend (and a large cock apparently, but that is a whole other thing), and I know I shouldn't be surprised by it, but part of me is.

There was a conversation in my discord server over the complicated feelings people have about this news. As a cockles-friendly space this was to be expected, as any new development in the lives of either half of JenMish often spurs these kinds of conversations, but as it started to get emotional I was thanked for bringing some perspective. I hope that I can help anyone who also needs a different way of viewing this situation by making this post, while also helping myself to organise my own chaotic and complicated thoughts.

As I understand it, during the It Seemed Like A Good Idea At The Time event at this weekend's Burbank convention, Misha told a fun anecdote about gift-giving with his new girlfriend and her daughter, wherein Misha got some things delivered to said girlfriend directly from Amazon, and girlfriend wrapped them for the daughter including what she thought was a microphone but was actually another similarly shaped item not intended for children at all. He continued to say that this "microphone" was for his girlfriend so she wouldn't need to go searching elsewhere for intimacy, as they are currently living in separate states. Now, I was not at the event, and the lack of recordings (recording was strictly prohibited, so if you've got one shame on you, I don't want to know about it!) means that everything I will ever know about this story and the way it was told to the small audience who were lucky enough to be able to attend this event comes as a form of the Telephone game, and therefore lacks a whole lot of body language, tone and context. We, as a fandom, have been severely burnt by this kind of missing nuance before - think DenverCon'21 - and it's these kinds of kneejerk reactions that have the potential to spiral out of control and limit the things we get told at future events - think bishagate.

Think for a second about your personal perception of Misha Collins. He's chaotic, he can be a little self-deprecating or self-effacing, he likes to turn serious anecdotes into jokes. He is also a passionate and caring man, who has a lot of respect and appreciation for his fans. Think about the way he tells anecdotes at standard con panels - it's often a bit tongue-in-cheek, a bit sarcastic, a bit exaggerated - so why would his behaviour at this event, which was specifically set up for Misha to tell stories he wouldn't normally have the space to do in a convention setting, be any different?

I am going to go through my thoughts on some of the things I have seen mentioned about what this all means…

First off, the elephant in the room, what does this mean for Cockles? To me, absolutely nothing. Whatever Jensen and Misha have going on completely transcends a standard sexual and/or romantic relationship. Misha was in his relationship with Vicki for the majority of his life, including when he met Jensen, and we all know she literally wrote a book on polyamory; his perception of relationships is literally shaped and moulded by this, and it's not something he's going to just switch off. Danneel has been a permanent fixture in the cockles dynamic this entire time as well. The JenMish panel at Burbank this weekend will hopefully alleviate any of the doubt anyone is having here, and give us some knowledge that regardless of how Misha defines his relationship status, things will continue in the same chaotic, loving and ridiculous nature we've become accustomed to.

Which segues nicely into the implication that the vibrator was purchased so she wouldn't stray, and therefore their relationship is monogamous. See above thoughts about tongue-in-cheek, exaggerated and self-effacing - when I imagine him telling this story, I see that cheeky, gummy grin going the whole time. Without the nuance of watching this unfold, I think we are all safest to assume that this was a joke, not a firm declaration that he has left his polyamorous attitudes behind.

On thoughts of him "moving on too soon" from his marriage and subsequent divorce, this is where my own feelings get complicated as well, but also where we need to remember that the key feature of a parasocial relationship is that we only see and know what he wants us to. We don't actually know what the trigger for that dissolution was, so in terms of the actual calendar timing it might seem soon, but emotional development and change doesn't run on a standard calendar. We don't know how long the process was before the decision was made to separate. I am currently working through a messy separation, and while I can pinpoint the decision to somewhere in the past 6-12 months, my marriage has realistically been dead for 3+ years, and we're a (supposedly) monogamous couple. As a poly couple, I can imagine that Misha and Vicki worked through every alternative option possible before landing on the decision to formally separate, and had probably well and truly been through the mourning period before it was even all over. Adult relationships are complex at the best of times, and no one ever truly knows what is happening in them except the people involved. I also think that as a man who is nearing 50 and just come out of very long term relationship, that he doesn't actually know how to be "alone", nor does he want to…

Lastly, for some of us, this is someone important in our lives who has found happiness in another person when perhaps we don't have that for ourselves. When those feelings hit, they can be extremely disheartening, and I want to send all my loving thoughts to anyone who falls into this category. It's difficult when the envy turns your stomach in knots and then your thoughts spiral into all the things wrong that mean that no matter how much you want to you can't just be happy for someone. Love and life are complicated, human beings are complicated, society is complicated. There is this hugely widespread and toxic mentality that we are all raised on that says we are halves of something that is destined to find our other half in order to feel whole, and it's utter bullshit. We shouldn't need one singular significant other to feel complete, and sometimes we get so determined to find that someone that we end up sacrificing ourselves to make them fit. (see also; Daniel Sloss' thoughts on this subject in his stand-up special Jigsaw)

There are many different kinds of love, many different kinds of relationships, and many different kinds of people. If anyone proves that to us, it's Misha Collins. He is walking evidence that human life is chaotic and unpredictable and indeterminate and we can make our own fucking rules. I hope that we can collectively be respectful of him, no matter what (or who) he chooses, and feel grateful for everything he trusts us enough to share.

[bullet-prooflove]

Forgot that I was supposed to send you a prompt for Hamilton. How do you feel about this one?

“The first night you saw me”

Tagging: @kmc1989 @yourfellowmarzipan @toheavenwmydrms @lemmons1998 @mimi-8793

The first night Douglas meets you is at a charity event at the New Orleans Museum of Art during the unveiling of a new exhibition called Double Space: Women Photography and Surrealism. It’s part of his press officer’s drive to showcase his support of the arts.

Events like this are a chore, he spends the evening being spoken at, not spoken to by people trying to illicit funding for all sorts of things, it can get a little much sometimes, all these people wanting something from him. There’s only so much that he can give and every cause is seems so important.

When you stand to take the stage and discuss the collection, Douglas is seated on the front row. He’s enamoured almost immediately. You explain how the work by these women challenges the masculine ideals of what it is to be a muse and how they took back surrealism from André Breton after being ignored by the movement. The topic is clearly something your passionate about, he can tell from the pitch of your voice as you command the room.  

When he’s introduced to you as the curator of the museum, you’re more stunning than he realised. He expects you to be like all the others, to try to sell him on some new program or another exhibit that requires funding but you don’t. Instead you ask him what he thinks about the showcase and despite everything his PR person advises he tells you the truth.

“I don’t get it.”

You laugh then because you find his honesty refreshing.

“I could explain it to you if you like.” You offer and he takes you up on that because the alternative is him being drawn into another conversation about budgets within the parish and you are far more interesting.

Your arm loops through his and he finds himself being guided not towards the exhibition but away from it and through a door out into the sculpture garden. He inclines his head towards you in question as you lead him onto the Mississippi Meanders, a bright, colourful bridge made of tempered glass and steel. It’s gorgeous piece of art, it feels both solid and light underneath his feet as you stroll together, like lovers into the depths of the night.

“You looked like you needed a breather.” You say by way of explanation. “I know I certainly did.”

“You mean you aren’t going to explain the complexities of feminism in the surrealist era to me?” He smiles and you smile back shrugging your shoulders.

“If it’s not your thing, then it’s not your thing.” You say before you release his arm and stare out across the river instead. “I expect you’re more into expressionism, a Van Gogh fan although you would never admit it.”

His cheeks colour then because you aren’t wrong, in fact you have him pegged entirely. He’s always told people he prefers Degas because of the sobriety of the work but his true love is Van Gogh’s complexity and use of color.  

“It means you’re a dreamer.” You tell him as he joins you at the railing to study the water. “You enjoy things that evoke an emotional response, that you find creative and challenging.”

Douglas doesn’t speak, he’s too surprised because people don’t talk to him this way, they beat around the bush, they amble but you, you’re real and Douglas, he likes that, he likes that alot.

“I’m sorry.” You say mistaking his silence for offense. “I can be an acquired taste sometimes.”

“No.” He says, his voice a little rough. “You were right about all of it, it’s just…”

He struggles to find the words.

“…people don’t see those things about me. They see the mayor and that’s all. They forget that I’m a person, one that lives and breathes, who has thoughts and feelings of his own. It’s invigorating actually meeting someone that sees beyond all of that…”

He’s interrupted by the appearance of his PR rep Martha at the edge of the bridge, she taps her watch and he sighs because he wishes his time really was his own, that he could spend all night, just the two of you talking on the Mississippi Meanders.

“I have to go.” He says regretfully.

“I understand.” You say and he thinks that maybe you do, you’re jobs are similar in that respect, there’s always something that requires your attention, someone who needs your advice. You reach into your purse, pulling out your card before handing it to him. “Call me, if you want to take another walk, talk about Van Gogh.”

“I will.” He promises you as he tucks it inside the interior pocket of his suit, the one closest to his heart. “Trust me I will.”

Love Douglas? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[shalom-iamcominghome]

I’m going to send emails out soon to finally try to find a willing rabbi to guide me in the conversion process. I’ve said I wanted to convert in December but was thinking about it even before then (that’s just when I told people). But I’m worried about not being Jewish enough. Like I want to convert ‘orthodox’ Sephardic, which ik is kind of redundant bc most sephardic ppl just say sephardic and aren’t rlly divided into orthodox, conservative, reform either due to historical reason, but like what if I turn out being not so orthodox after? Like I love the idea of being observant, but I know that I’m not someone to wear modest dress 24/7 (rn I only wear shorts like a handful of times of year but I’ll also wear leggings, and tights pants or v neck shirts that show cleavage). And I’m not a virgin and don’t really want to be celibate. Idk I just feel like if I go through the process of converting and being observant, I will be expectant to be fully observant and idk if that’s an expectation I can’t hold. Are there any other ppl that converted only to become ‘less’ observant after? And idk observance is a personal things, but many ppl will still look at you as less observant if you don’t follow every interpretation they do

I want to preface this by saying I hope you are able to find a rabbi who you feel safe to discuss this with. Oftentimes, you'll find that they themselves can empathize with you, even if they themselves are born jews. Jewish identity for all is complex. I also hope that, in answering this further, you might find comfort and know that you are worthy of converting.

I am in a mixed Ashki and Sephardi conservative shul, and my sponsoring rabbi is himself not conservative (I'm in a unique position). When he and when other rabbis ask about observance goals, I have noticed it is so they can anticipate how they can best help you. I myself want to be a 'typical' conservative jewish man, so I find some level of empathy with you! It's hard! And you're in what can feel like a raw and vulnerable space, one where judaism feels just out of reach, something you want or need. Trust me when I say I absolutely get it.

I felt the exact same as you before I joined my shul and later again when I found my rabbi. I worried about the fact that I didn't know how to daven, when to bow, the fact that the siddur is transliterated differently than what we say. It was overwhelming! But then... my community privileged me and truly put such an astounding effort in supporting my journey. It is by no means over, but they treat me the same as any other jew in the congregation. I'd feel weird if I pulled by phone out during shabbos because they hold me in the same light as them. All of this is to say that it is just as likely that you will find a community with whom you feel embraces you through this entire wonderful journey. It is entirely possible to marry your goals with judaism - it has been done before. How could a culture, a religion, a people have survived millenniums without someone like you having made a similar journey and made it as a jew? There will always be people like you, like me, who have made this journey and made it work for them, with others who loved them as a comrade, lover, friend, and confidant.

And when it comes to a varying of practice once you are jewish? It is only natural if that happens. A conversion is not an ever-lasting contract to stay stagnant in your practice - it is, essentially, formalizing that you are part of this people. I have been following plenty of jews who have converted and who have both become more observant and less observant. In fact, a ruling about this which has truly comforted me is from Ben-Zion Meir Hai Uziel, a Sephardi chief rabbi who made a ruling about this:

You are human, and there are 613 mitzvot. Hardly any of us consistently follow them all - especially when many require the temple! We can only expect you to do your best, to live jewishly under your terms and readiness! It takes some of us years to work up to certain observances, and that is regardless of jewish status. It would be unfair to expect you to take on more than you are ready for, regardless of if you have immersed yet or not. Heck, I only feel comfortable observing a select amount of mitzvot because I want to understand all of them before doing them. I want my soul to yearn for an aspect of observance, because my personal goal is to fall hopelessly and madly in love with jewish life, judaism, and this wonderful people. I want to emphasize that we all come at judaism with a unique, interesting, and worthy background. Yours is no exception.

I hope that, maybe, you got something out of this rambling. You are worth it to convert if you have decided this is your desire, want, or need. I for one welcome you here, and hope that our paths continue to cross. Please don't hesitate to talk anytime - judaism is a communal practice. It is not something you can wholly do alone.

[baby-alien11]

Variety Nepo Babies on Nepo Babies (Y/N Ulrich Universe)

First of all, I have to give credits to @gabbylovesreading and @nikfigueiredo because they were the first I told this idea and the other one, and they also gave ideas that became reallity, so I have to give them their flowers

taglist (open): @volturi-girl-imagines @dessxoxsworld @camiesully @ethanlandryluver @nowitsmissing @aliciacat20 @gabbylovesreading @nikfigueiredo @itsaaliyah2

a/n: set between the Suzuka and Shangai GP

When Variety came to you to the idea of the first Nepo Babies encounter at the same style of the Actors on Actors you were surprised because you thought they would go with more famous nepo babies, but when they told you that they wanted to go with emerging and not so looked people you liked the idea

And because they wanted to do it a bit different than the Actors on Actors, a small activity of exchanging gifts with the person you're paired was going to be held, so when they told you who you'd be paired with, you went hands on to make a good and homemade present, specially because you were a fan of them

When the day of the interview arrived, you picked your own outfit, which was a mint long sleeve corset top, a black Prada skirt, black heels, with your initial necklace, star earrings, golden rings, your nails painted black, your hair in a high bun, glittery eyeshadow and gloss, and also prepearing your bag with your things for the day and the gift box

"Well, sweet baby Tatum, wish me luck", you sighed looking at your cat, who was no longer a small tiny baby, who was cuddling in your cherry blossom pillow even though her shark bed was next to it, "I can't believe I'm meeting one of my favorite drivers today, I wish I could take you with me"

Taking your things, you went downstairs and to where your car was parked to put everything in the back, before approaching the garage where your dad was working on pieces of furniture for your brother

"Hey dad", you called him at what he stopped what was he doing

"Hey tornado, you look good, love the outfit"

"Thank you, I just wanted to let you know that I'm leaving for the interview, and Tatum already had her breakfast, in case she asks for more"

"Her next meal would be until lunch, don't worry", Skeet laughed, "By the way, if it's possible, can you ask for a Logan Sargeant autograph?"

"I'll do my best", you laughed

Taking advantage of the nice weather of LA, you debated to go without the roof but then you thought that for the sake of your hair the best option was with the roof on

Almost at the middle of the road, your phone that was connected to the car started to ring with a call from Jack, at what you pressed the green button

"Hey babe", you exclaimed, "How's filming?"

"Hey gorgeous, it's going great", Jack responded, "They're asking when you're returning to the set"

"If I don't need to go to Variety tomorrow, then it is"

"Are you going to the interview right now?"

"Yeah, I'm excited and nervous, this is like the second formal-in a set interview that I'm doing, and with one of my favorite drivers"

"You're going to do amazing, you're amazing"

"Stop, you're going to make me cry"

"I'm not saying anything that isn't true"

"I truly, really love you"

"And I truly, really love you even more"

The conversation lasted almost during the entire trip until he had to go back to film; arriving at the offices of Variety, you pulled your ID on the security stand so they let you in

Once they let you in into the property, you drove towards the private parking lot where you spotted a space with your name on it, and after turning off your car, you took your things out of your car to walk to the entrance where an intern was there to help you with your things

"We're so happy that you accepted to join the first edition of this new project", the intern exclaimed, "And I'm a fan of you"

"Really? Thank you so much, I really appreciate it"

"Actually, I volunteer to come to get you when the security anounced you were here"

"Oh, that's nice, and you're also very nice"

Once you reached the floor where the set was ready for the interview, the intern led you to a small lounge area while the interview started, not before leaving the gift box on the small table next where your asigned seat was

A few minutes after you arrived, you heard people saying that your interview partner had arrived, at what you quit your attention of your phone and stand up from the two-seat sofa to properly greet him

"And this is your interview partner", the director said stopping in front of you, "Max this is Y/N Ulrich, Y/N this is Max Verstappen"

"Hi, nice to meet you"

"Nice to meet you to, I'm a big fan"

"Okay, we have a few minutes until the interview starts, so we can talk about how is this going to work, please, have a seat", taking the seat you were previously using with Max sitting next to you and the director sitting in front with a tablet in her hands, "First we're doing the interview, there won't be a script but the topics we will like for you to talk are what is like to be childs of famous people, what are you doing in your profesional life, dealing with hate, and then any random topics you want, but we want it to be the most natural and fluent conversation possible, and also the gift exchange we'll like it to be at the start or finish; then we'll have an hour and a half break for lunch, and then we'll return to do some videos and photos for social media and teasers, we hope to get everything ready this day, but if it isn't, we'll do it tomorrow, Max, we hope that it doesn't interrupt your race weekend schedule"

"I don't think so, we have like another week before the next one, so I'm free", Max shrugged

"Perfect, Y/N, how about you?"

"My schedule is also free"

"Perfect, we'll let you know when we start, meanwhile you can get to know each other"

"So, you are a Formula 1 fan?", Max asked you once the director left

"Yes, I've been a fan since a few years ago", you nodded, "You are one of my favorite drivers, actually"

"Oh, really? Who are the others?"

"Top of the list is Checo, and then I have a long list"

"What about teams?"

"Red Bull at the top, along with Ferrari and Mercedes"

"Give me five", Max said at what you laughed doing it

"And I also dragged my boyfriend into this F1 world, his teams are Red Bull, Ferrari and McLaren, even though what happened"

Seeing Max's confused face, you unlocked your phone and went to Instagram dms to search for that chat until you found the un-answered texts and passed him your phone, and noticing he read the whole thing when his eyes went wide and the way he left his Red Bull can in the center table to cover his mouth

"No fucking way he did this", Max almost exclaimed reading it again

"He did, two days after my eighteen birthday"

"This is so embarrassing, I can't believe he actually send this"

"That's why I left him on read, and the funny thing is that I met my boyfriend a few weeks after"

"I would also left him on read, honestly, this is the most embarrasing message I've ever read"

"Dude, every person that I told and shown the message to, ends up laughing and dying of cringe"

"When lunch arrives, can we show this to the others?", Max asked, "Carlos, Lance and Mick are also here, their interviews were a few days ago but they're here"

"Sure, no problem", you nodded, "Hey, have you heard the audio from '2Fast 2Furious'?"

When the director anounced that the filming was about to start, you grabbed a can of Watermelon Red Bull (Max and his team argued it was for the sponsorship) and walked towards your armchair to leave your can at the center table and return to the edge of the set to stand next to Max, while the hair and make up people fixed your look

"Action!", the director screamed

Given the signal, both of you walked towards your respective armchairs to sit

"What's up Suki?", Max said

"What's up bullet?", you responded

Almost when you finished your part, both of you started laughing, what continued for a few seconds until it died

"Hello, I'm Max Verstappen, F1 driver for Oracle Red Bull Racing and three-times World Champion, son of Jos Verstappen, former F1 driver, and Sophie Kumpen, former karting driver"

"Hi, I'm Y/N Ulrich, content creator for social media, VFX make up artist in the making, part-time model, and former high school theatre actress, youngest daughter of Skeet Ulrich, actor best known for being Billy Loomis in Scream, and Georgina Cates, best known for Clay Pigeons and profesional photographer"

"Wow, you really do a lot"

"I mean, I know that VFX make up is what I want to do in my life, but while I continue to preppare for that world, I'm also doing things that I love like fashion and sharing bits of my life with the people, what about you, did you did sidequests before becoming the F1 star that you are today?"

"In total honesty, no, since the moment I could walk my dad put me in the kart, and all was train day and night, and then participating in karting competitions, and win first place in everything"

"What would happen if you got second or under?"

"Well, one time he left me on a gas station in the middle of nowhere", Max responded while laughing

"Hold on, your dad did what?", you exclaimed in shock

"Yeah, we were leaving a race which was bad for me, and I couldn't stop talking even if he told me to, so he stopped, told me to get out, so I did, and then he drove off"

"How long you were there?"

"Not so long, my mom was in another car so she picked me up", Max explained but you were still in shock, "Anyways, how about your relationship with your dad?"

"It is good, I'm the youngest child and I was born in the middle of the divorce, but like, mom and dad ended up good for the sake of me and my siblings, and like everything we wanted to try, they have been a great support for me and my siblings, for example, my sister Naiia is an actress and has had a lot of prepparation for the industry, my brother Jakob is also an actor but is more interested in motorsports, because we have background on it"

"Really? How?"

"Yeah, our grandfather is D.K. Ulrich who is a former NASCAR driver, and our uncle is Ricky Rudd also a NASCAR driver, so Jakob is more focused on that side of the family, and there's me who collected everything"

"And how started your interest for the VFX thing?"

"It all goes back to the reason of this tattoo", you said lifting your left hand, "So, since an early age I had the curiosity of the making of movies and series, like when I saw the Scream saga with dad I was asking a lot of questions about how they did everything, and a few years later in the set of Riverdale, it started with the fake Southside Serpents tattoos, and it became my life goal when at the end of season two, there's a scene where Cole Sprouse's character appears absolutely beaten up, and I helped doing the entire make up with the guide of the make up artists, and that was the beggining"

"So basically everytime you look at your tattoo you remember your starts"

"Exactly, and dad has helped me with my classes, getting in touch with people who've worked in several films, and also getting my first job at Halloween Horror Nights, and I'm not going to deny that he has helped me a lot, I'm not going to deny my privileges"

"Yeah, there's no sense in deny that we have very famous last names and that gave us certain benefits above the others, but that doesn't mean we have to be lazy"

"Yes! You get it! I mean, people often think that we don't have to put any effort, that we're only here because of our parents, but I think we have to prove that we deserve to be here, we have to work hard as the others because life is not easy, and specially as a woman in any industry"

"I agree with that, I mean F1 is including women little by little in the teams and with the F1 Academy, but there's a lot to improve"

"Exactly, queen Susie Wolff has been doing an amazing job with the F1 Academy, but there's need to be the guarantee that women will feel safe working in any type of motorsport, or any industry"

"And what would you suggest for us men to help to create safer space?"

"Deconstruct, learn, hear their experiences, don't invalidate their feelings, and that's only the tip of the iceberg"

"Now that we entered this kind of topics, how do you deal with hate?"

"Oh dude", you sighed taking a sip of your drink, "It depends, the first times I was like 'why they're hating? I haven't done anything wrong' but there was still a part of me affected by that, also another influencers said some mean things, but my breaking point was when after Scream VI I found some tweets questioning my relationship with Jack, acussing us of having a PR relationship because of the movie, calling me fake, that I was doing it for fame, that's how nepo babies are, and my high school mean girl wrote that last one, and I told my dad but he was leaving for a convention that day so he left me at my boyfriend's house, he was filming and his mom was in the town for the weekend, and I also told him when we talked later and he posted an statement that kind of calmed the waters, but until this day there a few comments under my posts, but as Taylor Swift said 'haters gonna hate hate hate hate, and I'm just gonna shake shake shake shake, shake it off"

"Oh, I like that song"

"I know, it's so good, you should listen to her other songs"

"What songs would you recommend?"

"I'm going to take in count that Penelope lives with you and Kelly, I love that little girl, and I'm going to recommend Fearless and Speak Now, I feel like those are the best albums to get introduce to her music because they're the first ones along with debut, and then you can continue with the rest of the albums"

"Thank you so much, I'll definately check it out"

"Sooner than you know, you'll be in the race car singing 'Getaway Car'", you joked, "And I feel like I also have to ask you how you deal with hate"

"Well, we also get a lot of hate we have to deal with everyday, but once you start to win it gets worse like people will criticize everything, and more if you start at seventeen like I did, from the way you drive, your attitudes, who you're dating, the way you interact with your teammate or any of the other drivers, people booing when you are in the podium, you just need to learn to block them and focus on your race, do your best and try to win and have points"

"I only have one thing to criticize you, and that's the skinny jeans"

"What's wrong with them?"

"Every picture of you arriving at the paddock is wearing the same skinny jeans, with the same team shirt, I even bet that your closet is only that", you said before turning to look at the camera, "Kelly, if you're seeing this, please post a picture of his side of the closet, I love you, thank you"

"Listen, I'm trying to use different clothes, but I feel comfortable wearing that to the paddock"

"And there's nothing wrong with that"

"Maybe I'll start wearing some things from the new Red Bull collection"

"Oh yeah, I saw some of the pieces, they're really cool"

"By the way, when we were talking backstage we talked about two things"

"Oh my God", you laughed

"You said that you are a fan and have multiple favorite drivers, who are they?"

"I thought you were going to say about the other thing", you sighed, "Yeah, Checo, you, Lewis, Seb, Michael and Mick, Pierre, Doriane Pin, Abby Pulling, Niki Lauda, Albon, Yuki, queen Susie Wolff, Carlos, Charles and I have extreme admiration for Romain Grosjean for getting out of the car on fire, and continue in the world of motorsport"

"That was a moment for the history books of F1"

"He became a legend in the sport, and I got to admit that I giggled when I saw the photo he posted this year at the Bahrein circuit", you admited, "What about horror movies, which are your favorites?"

"Which is the one you're in?"

"Scream VI"

"That's my favorite"

"You don't like horror movies, don't you?"

"No"

Laughing because of that, both of you saw the director with a sign that read '10 minutes left', which meant that the only thing left was the gifts

"Okay guys, unfortunately we have to end this interview, but we have a last thing to do", you said

"Yeah, we have a gift exchange", Max continued

Taking the boxes from next to the armchairs, both of you exchanged the gifts leaving them in the center table, and after three rounds of rock, paper, scissors, Max was the first to open the box

"Let's see what we got here, the packaging is nice, by the way", Max said leaving the top of the box on the table, "First we have a box of cookies"

"I made them myself, the flavors are oat with cranberrys, salted caramel, strawberry cheesecake and chocolate chips"

"You made them?", Max asked at what you nodded, "That's awesome, thank you, there's also bracelets"

"Friendship braceletes, my boyfriend help me to do them, there's five for you, five for Kelly and five for Penelope"

"I feel like you like giving gifts"

"I feel like it's one of the best ways to show people how much you appreciate them, so yeah"

"There's also cats toys, Jimmy and Sassy will appreciate this, and last a Ghostface mask in a crystal box"

"And it's signed, by my dad, Matthew Lilliard, Melissa Barrera, Jenna Ortega, Jack Champion, Liana Liberato, Jasmin Savoy Brown, Mason Gooding, Dermot Mulroney and me"

"This is amazing, it's really cool, thank you very much"

"It's nothing", you shrugged, "Well, I guess it's my turn"

Getting closer to the box, you lifted the top of the box to leave it to the side, first getting out a clear bag of waffle style cookies

"Those are stroopwafels, they are typical of Netherlands, they have caramel in the middle"

"I'm not going to share this with anyone in my house", you joked taking the next item of the box which was a Red Bull light blue hoodie and a red one, along with two of the new caps, "I love this"

"One is for you and one for your boyfriend, I did my research", Max pointed, "Kelly also put a small gift"

Finding it, you pulled a box full of N°1 Hairpins from Fiona Franchimon in all the avaliable colors

"These are gorgeous", you said admiring them and grabbing one of the yellow gold ones and putting it in your hairstyle, "Can someone please tell me if I put it correctly?"

Almost running, one of the people of hair and make up aproach to you fixing it a little before returning to behind the cameras

"Thank you", you exclaimed, "Okay, let's see what's next"

Rumaging through the next item, you grabbed a mini helmet which was the one that Max used in Qatar 2023, and it was signed by him, the last item was a black box with the F1 and Red Bull Racing logos, that the moment you opened it, you almost felt like crying

"Is this real?"

"Yeah, very much real"

"This is amazing, thank you so much, I really appreciate it"

Once the interview ended and the crew took a few photos, both of you went to the guests cafeteria, where the only people in there were the other three drivers occuping a table, so after grabbing lunch from the buffet, both of you went to sit at the table

"Hey guys, this is Y/N, my interview partner", Max greeted while sitting

"Hi everyone, is nice to meet you all", you smiled feeling a bit starstruck, "By the way, Carlos, how are you after the surgery?"

"I'm good, thanks for asking", Carlos responded, "It was bit difficult the recovery, but everything's fine"

"You literally walked into the paddock not even 24 hours after the surgery", Lance pointed

"Says the one who went to race two weeks after a bicycle accident and surgery", Carlos returned, "At least I didn't race, I was helping with strategies, Charles ended up in the podium and Ollie with points"

"Also congratulations on your win on Australia", you added

"Y/N, is your first time talking with F1 drivers?", Mick asked

"Something like that", you sighed getting out your phone to enter Instagram dms, "Two days after my eighteen birthday I got a message from one of the youngest drivers, trigger warning, is cringey"

"I'm intrigued, what does it says?", Lance asked

"Hello beautiful, I saw that your birthday was a few days ago, congratulations, I have a few weeks of break during summer, do you want to go out??", you read seeing their faces full of cringe and holding laughs, "I left him on read, and met my boyfriend a few weeks after this"

"This has to be Lando", Carlos concluded, "He's the only one who could send something like this"

"It was Lando", you confirmed showing them your phonescreen

"Not the smirking face emoji", Mick cringed, "You skipped a bullet, in total honesty"

"I know", you nodded

"Can I took a picture of the screen?", Lance asked, "This will be great to blackmail him"

"I have no problem"

"Or even better, sent this to the group chat", Carlos pointed, "I don't care if George kicks us out"

"And the funniest part of this, is that one of my boyfriend favorite teams is McLaren", you added

"Who's your boyfriend?", Lance asked

"Jack Champion, he's an actor", you responded smiling, "He's part of the Avatar movies, Scream VI, which is where we met, Retribution, and soon, Freaky Tales"

"I think his arm is bigger than my head", Mick commented since Lance searched his insta and were watching the boxing video, "How old is he?"

"Nineteen, we're both nineteen, but he has been working out since twelve years old because of Avatar, he plays Spider"

"Please tell us you are going to a Grand Prix", Carlos said, "We need to see Lando's reaction"

"Actually, in the gift exchange, Max gave me All-Access passes for the Monaco Grand Prix, so Jack and I will be there", you nodded, "Of course after clearing our schedules"

Once the time for lunch ended, you and Max returned to the set, where the small living room was gone and a race simulator was there, along with a small photoshoot station and two director chairs

"Okay guys, we're going to do a small photoshoot for promos, a video for promo and the race simulator", the director informed, "We'll start with the photos"

Going to the photoshoot station, they took some individual photos and in pairs, and since you brought your sparkling pink ghostface mask and Max brougth his helmet, they were also included in the photos

Once the photos were done and the production made sure they looked good, the next thing was the video for the promos sitting in the director chairs, and holding cans of Red Bull

"Hello everyone, this is Y/N Ulrich"

"Hi, I'm Max Verstappen"

"And we are proud to be part of the first season of Variety's Nepo Babies on Nepo Babies"

"We had a very deep and fun chat that you'll be able to see before the Miami Grand Prix"

"That's right, our interview will be avaliable on may 1st, so suscribe to the Youtube channel and turn on notifications"

Finishing the video, both of you did a small toast with the cans before drinking from them

"And cut!", the director exclaimed, "That was perfect"

While they configurating the race sim, the people from hair and make up undid your hair so it would be more comfortable but still kept it away from your face using the hairpin

"This is a race simulator, we often use it to test the cars or to play with the F1 videogames, which is what we are going to do, using the f1 2023 videogame", Max explained once the cameras started rolling, "As we can see it has everything essential like one of our cars, and don't worry I'll be your race engineer during this"

Sitting in the seat, you adjusted it and put your hands on the wheel and your feet in the pedals, realising it would be difficult with high heels

"I'm going to take off my heels", you sentenced standing up, "I'll be right back"

Walking to the space where you left your things, you opened your bag to grab a pair of mint ankle socks and removing your heels to put on the socks and return to the set

"What is that?", Max laughed seeing your socks

"Care bear socks", you responded sitting again, "Wish Bear to be specific, okay, what do I do in this game?"

"First we choose the option 'F1 World'", Max instructed at what you did it, "You can choose a team and adjust the car at your comfort, what team are you choosing?"

"Silly season started on February 1st, so I'm taking your seat", you declared choosing the Red Bull car, at what Max looked at the camera in shock, "What's next?"

"Choose a track"

"I'm going to Monaco, it's a classic, what's next?"

"Start the race"

"Please don't scream at me like Charles and Carlos in that video"

"I won't, I promise"

Once the game started, there wasn't a moment of peace between screams of both of you, Max giving instructions and you screaming in axienty and nerves, but fortunately you managed to finish the race without crashing into the walls

"Is this game avaliable for Nintendo Switch? Because it was fun", you sighed

"Yeah, you almost crashed into a wall, but you finished the race", Max pointed, "But almost everyone has had a crash, so don't worry"

"I'll still stick with VFX make up and fashion"

Once the director anounced the end of the day, the Red Bull team took a few photos of both of you, and the director also gave a few words of thanks before everyone started packing, at what you did the same putting your black crocs and the heels in your bag and organizing all of your things

"Hey, Y/N", Max called you at what you turned to look at him, "In the name of all Red Bull we would like to give you a gift"

Watching the person next to him, you saw seven boxes of twenty-four cans of the energy drink of regular flavor, sugarfree, tropical, blueberry, watermelon, coconut-berry and apricot-strawberry

"Wow, thank you so much, I didn't expect it"

"It's nothing, besides, you and your boyfriend will be guests for Monaco"

"And we really apreciate that, again, thank you very much for inviting us"

After exchanging numbers to coordinate the future travel, you started to took your things to go, but for your surprise, four pairs of arms grabbed the gift box and the Red Bull boxes, at what you turned to see the four drivers standing there

"We'll help you carry all this to your car, don't worry", Mick said

"Um, thank you", you nodded grabbing your bag, "By the way, when did you arrive?"

"Like five minutes ago", Lance shrugged

"Come on, hermanita", Carlos exclaimed, "Let's get all of this to your car"

"Did you just called me 'little sister'?", you asked with surprise

"It's because you irradate little sister energy", Carlos explained, "Wait, do you know spanish?"

"A bit, Melissa Barrera is my half fictional sister, so she teached me some words and phrases, only the basic, and some swear words"

Saying goodbye to the director and the crew, all of you went to the direction of the lobby saying goodbye to the receptionist before stepping into the private parking lot seeing your car and a special person leanning against it

"Babe", you exclaimed running towards him

"Hi, gorgeous", Jack smiled hugging you and lifting you a few centimeters from the floor

"Why you didn't told me you were here?", you asked once the hug ended, "I thought you were filming all day"

"They let us go earlier, so I thought it was a good idea to surprise you", Jack explained, "I talked with someone from Variety and mom dropped me here like ten minutes ago"

"Aw"

Interrupting the moment, both of you turned to look at the four drivers standing a few meters apart with the rest of your things

"Holy shit", Jack murmured seeing them

"I know", you nodded, "Guys, this is Jack, my boyfriend"

"Hi, everyone, I'm a big fan", Jack smiled

Unlocking your car, they left the Red Bull cans in the boot space and the gift box in the backseat along with your bag, and then they greeted Jack with the typical "man hug"

"Guys, he kinda looks like Ollie", Carlos said hugging Jack by his shoulders, "But with more muscle"

"Okay, I see the vision", Max nodded

"And he drives a red car", you mentioned

"Are you sure you're not related to him?", Mick asked him as a joke

"Unfortunately not", Jack responded, "But I feel honored to look like him, he is very talented"

"Maybe you'll meet him in Monaco", Mick said, "Ready for that?"

"Yeah, the moment Y/N send me the audio and the photo of the passes, I told James Cameron, Jon Landau and my mom, and fortunately I don't have to film that week", Jack explained

After talking for a few more minutes, both of you had to left, leaving the drivers still in there

"What if we tell everyone except for Lando that they are going to Monaco?", Lance proposed one your car was out of sight

"That is evil", Max oppined, "And a good idea, let's do it"

[zurka-durka]

not sure if ive ever sent an ask abt this but would u happen to have any kingsai hcs to spare? 👉👈

I DO THANK YOU FOR ASKING though none of these r uncommon or particularly shocking but still

-King calls Saitama 'Tama-shi. Im not a big fan of Saitama being nicknamed. Like "Sai" makes me squint every time but 'Tama-shi???🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️speak your truth King.

-I believe King's been searching for Saitama after their first encounter. Watching news and reading articles about more "niche" heroes etc. To say he felt sick after realizing that throughout all those years it really was just Saitama on his own defeating monsters around him s like saying nothing lmao.

-20 words or less doesn't really work between them. King never talks over/at Saitama rather he tries to have a real conversation. Saitama spaces out around him only when there's something on his mind.

-Genos is chill around King. He trusts Saitama's judgment (like when he immediately dropped the chase after saitama told him that amai's cool in the webcomic) but he does not know about the "stolen achievements". i cant sugarcoat this-there's no way in hell Genos would take that information lightly and even Saitama knows that. some lies they have to live with.

even if Genos separates in the future or grows cold and distant, the respect he has for Saiatama won't ever wither entirely anyway and King would rather bite his tongue than get on Genos' bad side.

-King has insane daydreams about Saitama in his suit and stuff im sorry. He jokes about how cartoonish his costume looks but he's all eyes.

-Saitama's gonna be around if King ever tries to get physically stronger. "Just lift dude" just to end up as his personal trainer lmao. Saitama'd try to teach King how to breathe properly, hand on his chest and everything, telling him "you're okay" when he gets hurt or if it's too much on King and that just makes King fall deeper.

-Saitama is the type to say im not in the mood and when being hit with "that's okay! next time i guess" he switches immediately because he values that respect just so much. There's no one but King in Saitama's life who considers his comfort in such a way. The only thing he holds to Saitama's face are his morals and actions, which is good cause Saitama can be easily very ignorant at times.

Not a headcanon but the main factor to me and why i love them sm: Saitama is very kind in a way that is just natural, not something that comes with effort, it's just how he is and King cries several times because of that alone. It's the "are you okay?" that brings such comfort to him that he bawled his eyes out, or when they are alone together King can actually let it go and spill things out and sob without feeling uncomfortable. And trust! The absolute trust that King has in Saitama, especially during the MA arc or the elder centipede. Because, unlike Genos for example, King is very much familiar and aware of Saitama flaws yet he never doubts him. So he puts himself in dangerous position, consciously choosing to sacrifice himself because a person like Saitama would do that. And he'd rather be scared but do it scared anyway than betray that concept is soooo to me

They bring out the best in each other fr

[merriepy]

AUTUMN SUN

•. Sova x gn!Reader

tags: fluff, hurt/comfort, oneshot

cw: slightly suggestive (?)

summary: After you've felt down for the past few days and now refuse to come out of your room, Sova decides to try to help you with your struggles

a/n: I've pretty much read every single Sova story on here so I needed to make my own because I'm starving qwq This story was also written with a fem!reader in mind but turned out to be gender neutral so I changed the tag after someone told me in the comments <3

Words: 1,5k

Your room was lit up by the soft evening light of the autumn sun. It wrapped everything in its soft, orange glow; everything except that heart of yours which was dyed in black. Truth was, you haven't been feeling great at all lately. You were so used to it that you didn't care anymore. Was there a particular reason why these feelings were stirring up inside of you? You couldn't tell anymore.

"(Y/N)?" you heard from behind the door. A voice so gentle and soft that it felt more like a melody; a melancholic melody as you acknowledged the concerned tone in his voice. You knew that you could just send him away, out of everyone in the Protocol he was by far the most respectful one and he would do as you say immediately. But you were longing for affection and comfort. So, despite immediately regretting your decision, you let him in.

Sova was the kind of person whose mere presence was enough to change the mood of the entire room. Whenever he was standing next to Brimstone during meetings his deadly calm aura would send shivers down your spine. And yet, he was by far one of the most caring people you've ever met in your life. He would commonly check up on everyone in the Protocol, and maybe that's why you didn't like him: because he was not only paying attention to you.

He walked over to your bed, and as you expected him to sit down on your bed and ask you if you wanted to talk to him he bent over the top part of your blanket and pulled it down until he could see your eyes. His smile was warm as always. "Sasha…" While checking the temperature on your forehead with his hand he made sure to keep eye contact with you. "I don't want to ask if you're okay 'cause… I mean it's pretty obvious that you're not fine." He took a step back from your bed, tilting his head a little bit while asking you silently with his eyes if you wanted him to leave or to stay. You felt tears rolling down your eyes as you visualized how the conversations might go with him and yet you still nodded, begging him to not leave you alone.

"Any space for me?" he asked and gave you another heartfelt smile. You knew that he was thanking you for trusting him and accepting his offer. After moving to the left side of the bed, you invited him to lie down next to you. He happily obliged.

You stayed quiet for some time and the awkward silence grew between you two. You didn't know what to say, you didn't know how to put this misery of yours into words, you didn't know how to start. And he could tell, especially since you didn't make any effort to hide your struggle. He placed his hand on your cheek and moved a little closer to you. "Deep breaths, Y/N." It still felt weird nowadays when people called you by your actual name and not your codename even though you and Sasha were always doing it when you were alone. "Take your time, I will wait for you."

Tears started to roll down your face. The comfort he gave you made you tear up as you were able to release the sorrow within you. "Sasha…" you cried out, wanting to thank him but not being able to properly produce a sentence between your sobs. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you closer to him. You placed your head carefully on his chest and calmed yourself down by listening to his heartbeat. While your tears slowly started to get less and less, Sasha placed his right hand on your head and slowly stroked over your hair.

"Is it really okay if I tell you about it?" you asked carefully without looking into his eyes out of shame. "I don't want to burden you with anything." Sova stopped his hand and moved it up to your chin. Gently, he shifted your head up so he could look into your eyes. "You're never a burden to me, darling." He leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on your cheek. The spot where he had laid his lips on your skin still felt comfortably warm and you wished that he would continue kissing you.

Tears rolled down your face once more as you told Sasha about everything that was bothering you recently. How you were always there for anybody and it felt like nobody had your back, how you felt like your friends were bonding over experiences you couldn't share, how the stress was getting to you physically and emotionally. During all of this, he stayed mostly silent and just let you talk about anything that you needed to get off your chest. He commented from time to time on your statements or he turned around to hand you a tissue from your nightstand.

"So I feel like I'm falling behind, you know? I just… don't want to be an outcast." Sova brushed the tears off your face with his fingers. "I understand," he said calmly, his hand still resting on your cheek. You suppressed the last few tears and smiled at the man next to you. "Thank you for being here, Sasha. And for… well, listening to my stuff," you mumbled with your voice still trembling. "I think I'm done now."

The man ran his fingers down your cheeks until his hands reached the back of your neck. He pulled you even closer until you could feel his breath on your lips. "I will always be there for you, (Y/N). And I will always listen to you and your struggles." Before you could reply, he had pressed his lips onto yours. You could taste his favorite tea through the kiss, as well as the passion he was holding for you. Your hand wrapped around his waist, pulling him even closer than he already was. The warmth of his presence made you feel so very much at ease that the last few painful tears ran down your face. Sasha quickly brushed them off your cheeks before pulling you on top of him.

You didn't expect such a sudden move from him and since he is pretty strong he had no problems placing you exactly where he wanted to. He grinned as he watched your flustered expression. His hands moved under your clothes but before he did anything else he looked at you. Your face was still a little red. "Do you want me to continue?" You felt how your heart picked up pace after hearing his words and you nodded quickly. You didn't want him to stop, under no circumstances. "Tell me if I'm going too far," he whispered into your ear before kissing your neck. His fingers ran down your sides, every movement making you feel better and better. Sova made sure to not come too close to your private parts and it made you feel comfortable knowing that he was so respectful of your boundaries. Your arms were still placed around his waist but you didn't want to move since everything was too perfect right now. He continued kissing your neck down to your shoulder and you just enjoyed it, taking in all those feelings that stirred up inside of you.

"Finally feeling better?" he asked as he pulled far enough away from you to properly keep up eye contact. His hands had stopped moving and he was now holding you in place; gently, yet somewhat protective. You just smiled happily. "Thank you for cheering me up, Sasha!" You firmly wrapped your arms around his hand and pressed your body against his with your head resting on his shoulders. He loosened his grip so you could move more freely. "I told you that I'm always here for you, my love." Sova looked outside the window, the autumn sun was about to fully fade away behind the trees. When his gaze had wandered back to you, he smiled warmly and gave you a quick kiss. "Because I love you, Y/N." You returned his soft smile and words of affirmation.

Sova stood up from your bed and reached his hand out for you. "What do you say, love? Wanna go outside and enjoy the rest of this beautiful evening?" A red blush hushed over your cheeks, flattered by his request despite everything that had happened earlier. You cherished that he wanted to spend that much time with you. By taking his hand you lifted yourself from your bed into the man's arms. "You're so cute, love~" he whispered into your ear. You passionately kissed him as a response to which he happily obliged. "I love you, Sasha," you told him after your kiss had ended and he had let go of you. He laughed softly and wrapped his left arm around your shoulder. "I love you just as much."

[you-fuckin-judas]

Young Royals : The importance of physical touch. [ P1 ]

Something I thought was so intense and important is the discussion of how Wille and Simon's relationship works, BASED on the language of physical touch.

I am a FIRM believer that both Wille AND Simon both have physical touch as their primary love language. While I agree that Simon is heavily into the words of affirmation as well, I stand by him relying on touch to display how he is feeling towards others.

Consensual Physical Touch

Something so VITAL to Wille and Simon is the agreement of touch between them, and how special that is.

Will you stay with me until I fall asleep again? [ Season 1 Episode 4 ]

This is one of my favorite moments to reference, it is a prime example of Simon expressing himself physically. He has just told Wille that he likes him as well, but in this moment, of him caressing his face and the gentle touch on his neck is when Wille really gets what Simon means, you can really see Wille react to what is actually going on. Yeah sure he SAID it but he's SHOWING it as well.

It's the way Simon is so expressive with his HANDS. If you can see what his hands are doing, odds are we know exactly how he is responding TRULY to what's going on.

Come visit me in Bjärstad sometime [ Season 1 Episode 5 ]

I almost feel like we shouldn't be here, like we shouldn't be allowed in this room with them because of how INTIMATE this moment is and how it's filmed.

Simon genuinely MELTS into Wille and his touch.

the look of consent between both of them, and how GENTLE each touch is PLUS the beautiful golden light?? ITS PERFECT.

They are genuinely so happy with each other, being in the same space. The fact that in this scene they hardly EVER break physical contact with each other speaks VOLUMES.

[shout-out to the intimacy coordinator because I cried during this one I can't lie.]

You're the only person here I can talk to.

[ Season 1 Episode 5 ]

This is one of the VERY FEW times we see Wille break down emotionally in front of Simon and really let his guard down. What is the way Simon responds? Physically. Getting up and embracing him regardless of how pissed at him he is and Wille all but basically pulls Simon into his chest cavity.

If he had just tried to console him verbally it wouldn't have had the same effect, and he knows that. It's important for Simon to respond not only in his love language but Wille's as well.

Again we see here Simon trying to ground Wille back down with very gentle calculated touch. The lack of space between them, the constant communication without speaking is VITAL to the relationship they have created.

Everything just got so messed up between us. [ Season 2 Episode 4 ]

The absolute TENSION between them in this moment is crazy, because they had not let each other get this close the entire beginning of this season because they knew if they did they really wouldn't be able to control themselves.

This is almost a test for them, to see if the other is still feeling the same. When Wille said he understands Simon doesn't love him anymore, that really set shit in motion.

They are CLINGING, CLAWING at each other almost like they need each other to breathe. The motion of Simon's thumb to Wille 's jaw to continue, the hand on the back of Simon's neck to keep him from leaving?? COME ON.

Also I want to note that Simon furrows his brow during this moment, like he needed this so bad it HURTS. He's ACHING. And you can feel it, by seeing just how much they NEED the touch of each other.

what happened? [ Season 2 Episode 5 ]

I could talk about this one until I run out of oxygen because I love it THAT MUCH. This is a memory for Simon, because he's spent MULTIPLE episodes keeping Wille's sweater close, to smell and calm back down. To keep the memory of him and being close to him but now he HAS HIM right there and he is not gonna waste that moment. To really sit in that , to cling to Wille and allow the space of consensual physical touch back into the conversation.

Again, I'm gonna mention the furrowed brow here because that's something we NEVER see whenever we are dealing with Marcus. And that is extremely important and telling on how Simon feels.

[I literally could just gif the whole scene here]

They are mirroring each other, matching each other like magnets. Responding physically, with genuine passion for each other and how much the other means without SAYING it. This scene is beautiful, and the fact the camera stays OFF them when the curtains are pulled closed?

I COULD TALK ABOUT IT UNTIL MY FACE FALLS OFF.

I will be doing another post on unwanted touch because that is VERY important as well.

[overleftdown]

farleigh analysis PART 3, because i might as well do the entire movie at this point. i'm locked in. this is going to cover the early-saltburn summer era. AKA, oliver's once in a lifetime, hand job on a haybale, golden big boy summer. everything after venetia and oliver's sex scene is in another post on my blog. this one is pretty short.

[0:34:42] (they're watching superbad. teehee.)

farleigh looks borderline revolted in the background of this shot, which is so funny to me. superbad is, in my opinion, notoriously rude. the comedy is hollow, childish, homophobic, etc. even seth rogan admits that the movie is tone deaf and aged horribly. that's neither here nor there, though. all i'm saying is that i can't imagine farleigh would enjoy the movie as a queer person.

[0:35:19] elsbeth: is that right, he had to put his fingers down his mother's throat to make her sick? farleigh: yeah. felix: farleigh, that's private stuff! farleigh: well, you told us. felix: in confidence!

when elsbeth initially asks the question, she's looking directly at farleigh. yet, when felix confronts farleigh about discussing private matters, farleigh responds with "well, you told us." meaning the family, i assume. felix had no issue with elsbeth and pamela discussing oliver's home life until farleigh was very moderately involved. it's odd to me. and yes, felix is the one that told them. moral superiority, or something. having someone to blame, even when you enabled their gossiping in the first place.

[0:35:34] elsbeth: we should give him the most wonderful time! farleigh: good luck, he doesn't smile much. elsbeth: farleigh seems to think he's ghastly. why are you friends with him, darling?

really, you can tell that elsbeth likes farleigh. she respects his opinion to a certain extent. i also talked about the tutor scene in part 2, and how i consider the "style over substance" debate a metaphorical parallel to farleigh over oliver. here, farleigh once again points out the style of oliver's social interactions: he doesn't smile much. when you look at this from a social and... neurotypical perspective, lacking a smile during conversation can mean a lot of negative things. farleigh seems to have a dedicated focus on arbitrary social expectations, largely because he has to.

[0:35:33] farleigh: and here he is now! we were just talking about you. elsbeth: don't be silly! farleigh, you just make up the most awful things. of course we weren't!

once again, in traditional catton fashion, farleigh is scolded for saying doing something that contrasts the cattons saviorism. obviously oliver knew they were talking about them. i can't blame elsbeth for attempting to backtrack, but "farleigh, you just make up the most awful things" is a weirdly unnecessary throat punch. she's stepping on farleigh to appear taller, if you will. at 0:36:34, when elsbeth asks oliver to sit by her, farleigh looks so exceptionally irritated. he rolls his eyes, looks back towards his computer, and sighs dramatically. wonderful. he's so sick and tired.

[0:37:20] elsbeth: i've lost so many friends to addiction. so, so many dear, dear friends. it's the root of poor pamela's horrors too, i'm afraid. farleigh: and the only interesting thing about her. elsbeth: farleigh! no, she is rather dull, actually. but she's so beautiful. you have to admit, she's very beautiful.

elsbeth and her obsession with physical appearances. once again, style over substance. and her outrage at farleigh refusing to soften the blow on his statements, before following it with her own (albeit less crude) dig at pamela. style over substance. wouldn't it a little uncanny, a little scary, to be the only person of color in a household that places physical appearance on such a high pedestal? especially a household as ignorant as the cattons. that's just conjecture, though. oliver has the ability to manipulate a space for himself in the family without sacrificing any of the qualities he began with. he never really smiles more, throughout the summer. he never really loses his signature awkwardness, his imposing energy.

[0:40:05] elsbeth: you know we're delighted to have you for however long it is you mean to stay. farleigh: forever...? pamela: oh, no. i think i might have, erm, found somewhere. elsbeth: oh, well done, darling! james: oh, good!

right after james says "good," you can see farleigh turning to look at him. prompting james to drop the hatchet on pamela's prolonged stay at saltburn, i'm assumng. this is what's interesting to me, i think. again, farleigh lacks the drive to play the same game as oliver. farleigh doesn't want to nurture the charitable actions of the cattons. farleigh believes the other guests at saltburn take up the space that he would otherwise fill. just like at oxford, when felix is sitting with someone else, farleigh is discarded. when elsbeth invited oliver to sit next to her, farleigh looks annoyed. the cattons capacity for attention and kindness is depressingly small. farleigh isn't playing chess, he's trying to win by sheer survival of the fittest.

for the next few, brief scene of farleigh and oliver interacting, oliver repeatedly proves that he does his research. i can't get over it, to be honest. neither can farleigh; if looks could kill, oliver would've been dead within 10 minutes of arriving at saltburn. the methods farleigh and oliver uses to remain relevant in the catton catalogue are so wildly different. farleigh, who uses his personality and social skills to keep the cattons entertained and charmed by him. i'm sure he loves to gossip with elsbeth, wine and dines with venetia, and he clearly does everything in his power to stay glued to felix's side throughout the school year. this is someone who has never considered manipulating the cattons; he just wants to be one of them, and he wants it to be easy. can you blame him?