#and ofc the first real poster

[thebuttsmcgee]

It kinda feels like when the Owl Crew were all saying their goodbyes to working on the show again.

Nearly everyone in the tags is getting ready for The End.

Like. Damn. It really is the end as far as we know for the entire franchise of The Owl House.

Man.

[reineyday]

vote for dabi! or just vote in general haha, always fun to be included in the popularity contests they do :')

[minakoaiinos]

Several things about the **** and **** drama is how many people have hopped out to go omg so is the lady we have decided is the only big bad villain responsible for planting all of the hate against insert group/idol here when I watched in real time for all of those examples their own fans jumping on their favorite idols for things that were clearly just scraps of bad rumors they just completely made overblown THEMSELVES under the guise of trying to look 'critical about their faves'

[mountainsandmayhem]

BDSMaid - Chapter 2

Masterlist || AO3

Pairing: Millionaire Joel Miller x Female Reader Series Summary: After recently graduating from university, your best friend offers you a job cleaning luxury homes for clients you’ll never know. It’s only temporary and a good way to save money for when you go back to get your law degree. That’s what you’re promised at least. Easy. Simple. Mundane. That is, until one of your clients is home and everything that you felt was missing in your life starts to fall into place. This goes against the NDA you signed and you could get fired. Or worse, you could fall in love.  Chapter Summary: Try as he might, Joel just can’t shake the memory of you. Try as you might, you can’t stop thinking of the woman tied to his desk. CW: The slow burn is burning. Mentions of death and underage drinking. Topless in public, this is a love story about BDSM after all. Reader does have some physical descriptions, so maybe more of an OFC, or just pretend you have pouty lips and a slightly upturned nose. Double POV (reader and Joel). AN: Thank you SO FUCKING MUCH for all the love on chapter one of this story. I literally cannot believe it surpasses 1000 notes in just a month, you're all insane and I love you. Dividers by @saradika-graphics. Biiiig shout outs to the bb's who have been so supportive of me spiralling and panicking this last month over the next chapter. I'd be in a deep dark cave without you @mermaidgirl30 @littlevenicebitch69 @lotusbxtch @evolnoomym @joelmillerisapunk and @milla-frenchy . Thank you! I feel like I'm giving some sort of Oscars speech and if you're still reading this, you're the real MVP. XO Word Count: 8.5k

~ Joel - 27 Years Ago ~

Joel’s stands in the garage of someone he barely knows, surrounded by drunk and rowdy classmates from his high school. He’s a senior, graduating in just a few weeks and moments like this are one of the perks of being the star designated hitter and first baseman, everyone wants you at their party. Someone hands him a warm, flat beer that was pumped poorly from a keg as they pat his back roughly in congratulations. Joel’s not sure how a bunch of seventeen year olds managed to get a keg, most likely an older brother, but he drinks the shitty beer all the same. Speaking of brothers, he hasn’t seen Tommy in a while. He’s only fifteen and he promised their mom he’d keep an eye on him. The younger Miller shouldn’t be at a seniors party, but that's where those perks come in again, because if Joel was good, Tommy was better. In fact, he was so much better that he’s played up a whole age group his entire life, always right beside Joel. Tommy was the back catcher, and tonight he got the eleventh inning game winning out at home for them to win the state championship. 

He finds Tommy chatting with a group of girls, all of whom are incredibly beautiful. They’re going to be very disappointed when they find out how much younger he is than them. Joel smiles into his red solo cup as he takes a sip of stale beer. He tucks his free hand into the pocket of his light blue wranglers and walks over to the wall of the garage. He leans back and crosses one cowboy booted foot over the other. The brim of his cowboy hat grazes the unpainted drywall behind him. Texas, and the country, in the late nineties was where everyone wanted to be, and Joel Miller could have been the poster boys for teenage country boys in 1997.

Brooks & Dunn plays on someone's CD player in the corner, laughter and people talking overlaps until it’s just noise to Joel. He stands back, watching his younger brother effortlessly charm the five pretty girls around him. All of them in tight blue jeans, lacy white tops, denim vests and cowboy boots. He grabs one by the hand and Joel overhears, “I’ll teach ya how to two step, shame to not know in a place like this.” Then the motherfucker winks at her like he’s some sort of cowboy Casanova. Joel lets out a silent laugh through his nose and sips the beer again shaking his head. 

Just as Tommy pulls the pretty little blonde over towards the unmarked and unofficial dance floor in the corner of the garage the song changes. Slow guitar, followed by the unmistakable twang of Tim Magraw’s voice. Joel didn’t know it then, but that song would change the course of his life and intertwine itself in the very fabric of his being.

‘Dancin’ in the dark, Middle of the night’

That’s when he sees her, tall and slender, deep olive toned skin and pale green eyes. Her dark curly hair cascades over one of her shoulders. She’s laughing with another classmate, and even though he can’t hear the sound of it over the noise of the party, he can tell it’s a light and melodic sound, and he wants to spend the rest of his life drawing that out of her. 

‘Takin’ your heart, An holdin’ it tight’

He puts his warm beer on the work bench beside him and takes off his black felt Stetson, placing it over his broad chest, hoping the comfort of his favourite hat would slow the rate at which his heart is beating. 

‘Emotional touch, Touchin’ my skin, And askin’ you to do, What you’ve been doin’ all over again’

She looks over at him, smiling shyly, and before he knows what he’s doing he’s walking over to her. His legs move on their own accord, knees shaking as he approaches the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen.

‘Oh, it’s a beautiful thing, Don’t think I can keep it all in, I just gotta let you know, What is that won’t let me go’

Everything in the room fades as she fully comes into view. Beautiful doesn’t even begin to describe the girl in front of him. She radiates a warmth that he’s only ever known his mother to radiate. It’s the first time he’s ever seen this girl, but she feels like home. This is it, that one thing that everyone says you’re supposed to feel. The thing his grandpa told him when he was younger, “Son, you’ll just know. It sounds ridiculous, but when I saw your grandma it was like a pull behind my belly button. I just knew, and I’ve known everyday since then.”

“Howdy, ma’am,” Joel says, tipping his hat to her before placing it back on his head. 

She giggles, confirming his earlier thoughts. It really is the sweetest fucking sound he’s ever heard. “Hi.”

He holds out a hand to her and she takes it, her skin is so warm and smooth. In that moment he knows that hers will be the last hand he ever holds. Fire flushes through his veins as he continues, “I’m Joel, what’s your name?”

“Oh, I know who you are Joel Miller,” she flirts, not letting go of his hand. “I’m Tiffany.”

“Tiffany,” he repeats, his voice going deeper as he says it. It’s egotistical but he loves the way girls shiver just a little when he lowers his register. “And how is it that you know who I am?”

She slides her hand from his and reaches up to grab his cowboy hat, plopping it onto her head. “Star first baseman and designated hitter, everyone knows Joel Miller. Look around, look at all these girls lookin’ at you, cowboy.”

For the first time in his life Joel finds himself blushing, but he doesn’t take his eyes off Tiffany. 

“I only see one girl.” She rolls her eyes and swats at his bicep at the cheesy line, but that was it for both of them. From that point they were inseparable. 

They both turned eighteen a few months later, and just ten months, and a thirty two hour labour after Tiff turned eighteen, a tiny little Sarah came into the world all pink and screaming. Joel hears that song again as he watches Tiffany hold that little bundle of blankets, ‘Better than I was, More than I am, And all of this happened, By taking your hand.’

They get married when Sarah is just a few months old. Both his beautiful curly haired girls in white dresses, Tiffany grabbing that same black Stetson off his head during their first dance. He holds them both, swaying from side to side, a hot tear rolling down his cheek at how goddamn happy he is. ‘And who I am now, Is who I wanted to be, And now that we’re together, I’m stronger than ever, I’m happy and free’.

Things for their little family of three are perfect. They buy the house with the white picket fence and the wrap around porch. Joel gets a job working construction and enjoys a nightcap with his beautiful young wife on their front porch every night. They make love often, slow and sweaty, Joel worshiping her soft copper toned skin inch by glorious inch. Tiffany wraps every minute of her day around Sarah and being a sweet, devoted housewife. Nothing seems to stand in their way. Until the diagnosis shortly before Sarah starts Kindergarten. 

Tiffany is too young, they’re all too young. This isn’t something that happens to people their age, they haven’t had enough time. Joel spends the next few months in a haze, it has to be a bad dream. The appointments, the treatments, the call to 911 when the illness starts to win. This isn’t how it was supposed to go. 

He holds Tiffany until the very end. Sponging a soft kiss to her forehead, whispering his goodbyes as they shut off the machines keeping her here. “You’ve been so strong, my love. You fought so hard. I know you’re scared to go, I’m scared too, but we’ll do it like we do everything else. Together. I’ll be ok, Sarah will be ok. Just rest now. I love you.” 

As she takes her last shaky and shallow breath, a sound will live with him until he takes a breath that matches hers, that song echoes through his hollow chest. ‘It’s your love, It does something to me, It sends a shock right through me, I can’t get enough’.

You - Present Day

You roll to a stop outside Mister Miller’s house for your second day of cleaning. As you look towards the impressive house your pussy flutters at the memories of yesterday - the almost pornographic noises that were made in that office, his soft and kind eyes as he apologized profusely in the kitchen. You were supposed to go to a study group last night, but instead you got lost in a rabbit hole of porn where women are tied up and fingered. You got yourself off four times thinking about a man you’re not even supposed to know, wishing it was his thick fingers hitting that spot inside of you that you can’t reach on your own. You felt guilty about it last night and now being back in his home you have that same sinking feeling again. 

Stupid. Sacrificing my future for a fantasy. Never again. 

You let yourself in the house and look at the list in your cleaning app. You pop in your AirPods and start listening to your favourite true crime podcast; thankful for the new episode, a gruesome distraction as you scrub baseboards and lightswitches. The episode ends and in an attempt to not let your mind wander to the gorgeous man that lives here, and the depraved new things you’ve discovered about yourself, you start an educational audiobook about civil rights law. You might want Joel Miller to strap you down and whisper filth in your ears, but you are a good person, and your aspiration in life is to help people who face discrimination on a daily basis. 

You breeze around his home, checking off each task and before you know it it’s almost one in the afternoon. You have almost your whole list complete, his soft sheets are in the dryer (and yes, you are incredibly proud of yourself for only putting the luxurious white fabric to your face twice on the way to the washer). You only have the patio furniture to spray down and the kitchen counters to wipe. That’s when your stomach growls, almost as if to remind you that it’s the perfect time to take a break while the dryer finishes. You haul all your stuff out to your car and lock up, sitting in your front seat as you take out your lunch container.

An engine revs in the distance and your heart skips in your chest. Before you even have time to wonder if it’s Joel’s car, one of the black garage doors slides open and Joel’s obsidian coloured Aston Martin rolls by you, stopping with precision on the shiny cement floor of the garage. You avert your eyes, focused on your container of chicken noodle soup. The left side of your face feels the warmth of his gaze fixed on you. Without looking over you can tell he is studying you and it takes everything you have to keep your eyes on your measly lunch. 

The afternoon sun is blocked as Joel raps his knuckles on your window. You glance over at him, looking up through your lashes. He’s looking at you intensely but you can’t quite place his expression. As always, his deep brown eyes are locked on yours, he could either be happy to see you or incredibly disappointed in you. But one thing is for sure, he’s calculating your every need with those warm and inviting eyes. He knocks again so you crank the handle to roll your window down a crack.

He raises one eyebrow at you, both hands rest on the roof of your SUV as he leans forward to speak to you through the small opening in the window. “Seriously?” His voice is laced with sarcasm. 

“What?” You say, “Can’t be too safe.”

He blinks at you before continuing, “What'd ya doin’ out here?”

You lift your tupperware container a little, willing the tingles between your thighs to stop, “Eating my lunch.”

He rolls his eyes, running his hand along his greying scruff. “You’re eatin’ lukewarm soup in your car in the middle of February.” It’s not a question, it’s a statement, but his voice is warm and curious, and you start to realize that the look on his face isn’t happiness or disappointment, but concern. 

You nod, “Yes.” His eyes dance around your face and you swear your heart is beating as fast as a hummingbird’s wings. Fluttering so fast that it’s traveling up your throat and you wouldn’t be surprised if he could hear it. 

“Get out of the car. Come warm that up and eat inside.” His voice is thick with concern, entire face soft as he looks at you. 

You swallow your heart back down to where it belongs, “I’m not allowed to do that, Mister Miller.”

His cheeks redden a little and some of the softness in him disappears, “Don’t call me that, it’s jus’ Joel to you.”

“I’m not even supposed to know your name, Mister Miller. I can’t call you by your first name.”

He shifts his weight onto one foot and points a thick finger at you through your window, “Don’t. Either you call me Joel or nothin’ at all. Come inside,” he drops his pointer finger to the door handle. He pulls on it to find it locked. “Seriously?”

“I told you, I can’t be too safe!” You can help but think how cute he looks all flustered - shaking his head at you for being cautious in a neighborhood where you could probably scream your credit card number and no one would use it. If anything, the wealthy homeowners on this street might transfer you money when they see the state of your vehicle. 

“You’re eatin’ inside.” He says flatly. 

“I told you, I can’t. We aren’t allowed to do that. You’re a client, Mist - I mean. Sorry, I just can’t. We aren’t allowed.” You glance towards the clock on your dash. At this rate your break is going to be over before you finish eating. 

He jiggles the door handle again, as if he can convince the metal to bend and unlatch itself with just his sexiness alone. “You like rules, don’t ya?”

He’s got you there, you do enjoy following the rules. You nod and hum a noise in agreement. 

“Unlock the door, please,” his voice has changed, he’s being more commanding now. A deeper, huskier sound leaving his lips. The sound seems to latch onto something deep in your mind, strong fingers wrapping around the control center of your brain, guiding you to do his bidding. You blink the feeling away. 

“Mister-,” his eyes flash with darkness, “Sorry. I can’t. It wouldn’t be right to eat in your house, plus my break is almost over.”

Joel releases your door handle, raising his hand to pinch the bridge of his nose and lets out a breath, as he drops his hand back to the top of your vehicle an amused smirk flashes across his face. “Do you consider yourself to work in customer service?”

“Yes,” you say nervously.

“And isn’t the main rule of customer service that the customer is always right?” His lips form a tight line and a deep dimple carves into one of his tanned cheeks. Your brain flashes back to one of the videos you watched last night, a man sucking on a woman's nipples as he rubbed her clit, her arms and legs strapped to a padded table. He had a dimple, but he had nothing on Joel. 

“Yes,” you croak and then clear your throat gently, shifting in your seat at the fire building behind that bundle of nerves between your thighs. 

“Then unlock the door, darlin’ and eat inside.” He doesn’t give you a chance to respond, turning and walking towards the house. He stops on the front step, opening the large glass front door. You follow, flip flops slapping on the concrete, carrying your powdered chicken noodle soup and plastic spoon up towards his fancy home. When you reach the threshold, he holds out his large hand palm up and you place the old, stained tupperware with your half eaten soup into it. He looks down at it and then back at you, eyes trailing along your body and it feels like he’s running a torch over you. “Is this all you have to eat?”

You nod, giving him a tight lipped smile. 

He cocks his head towards the kitchen and one pushed back curl that’s laced with a few greys falls into his eyes with the movement. In order to stop from pushing his loose curl back you squeeze your fists gently and head towards the stool you sat on yesterday. As your flip flop hits the tile you stop and look back towards your car nervously. “I, umm, I forgot my shoes.”

His large, warm palm comes to your lower back and he pushes you gently towards the kitchen. You sit as he transfers your soup into a matte black bowl and places it in the microwave. He opens a cupboard and pulls out a loaf of fresh bread, as you go to protest he flicks his eyes up to yours and something about the expression on his face tells you not to argue with him. He pops the two carefully cut pieces into the toaster. He breezes effortlessly around the kitchen for someone so broad and masculine. You didn’t realize someone making toast could be so sexy. The microwave beeps and he grabs a gold spoon from a drawer before wandering around the island, placing them both in front of you. His arm brushes yours as he pulls away and your heart flutters at his touch. He walks back around the kitchen island and grabs a glass. 

“Still or sparkling?” He says as if that’s just a normal question to ask when you get someone a glass of water. Just another thing that proves you don’t belong here. The toaster pops and you jump a little. He chuckles as he grabs the toast, slathering it with butter. “Still or sparkling, darlin’?” 

You breath hitches, he’s called you darlin’ twice now. Is that just that southern charm you hear about so often, or is it more? You shake the thought from your head, there’s no way someone like him is interested in someone like you. “Still is fine, you don’t have to trouble yourself.” 

You take a spoonful of soup, blowing on it gently before putting the spoon in your mouth. Joel is watching you in the same way he was yesterday. Assessing. Observing. Calculating. It feels like he’s looking into your very soul. He slides the plate of toast and then a glass of sparkling water over to you from across the island.

“Thank you,” you say quietly. “You didn’t -”

He holds his hand up, stopping you in the same way he did yesterday. “I wanted to.”

You feel your cheeks redden and you have to look away as you take a bite of toast. He’s too handsome standing in the kitchen with the afternoon sun highlighting his features. He’s wearing a black dress shirt today, the top few buttons undone, accentuating the perfectly groomed salt and pepper hair on his chest. You swallow your bite of warm, salty, buttery toast, allowing your eyes to flutter closed at the delectable flavour, holding back a moan. 

Joel clears his throat and crosses his arms across his broad chest, “So how did ya get into cleanin’ houses?”

You look up at him through your lashes. Why is he being so nice to you and taking care of you? He apologized yesterday. And after you told him it was fine he left you a massive tip. He said he wants to do this, but why? He’s rich and handsome and you can probably safely assume that that icy blonde from yesterday was his girlfriend. Unless…could she possibly be a mistress? You decide that that must be it. She’s his mistress. He has a wife. He’s just like every other rich man, cheating on his beautiful and age appropriate wife with someone much much younger than him. He’s probably terrified that you might find out who his wife is and tell her. That tip was hush money.

“I’m saving money,” you say and then shake your head, willing the thoughts in your mind to calm down. “For law school.”

“That right?” He says, raising an eyebrow at you as you take another spoonful of soup.

“Yes, I want to be a lawyer. I graduated a semester early and needed some money before going back to university. Assuming I even get accepted. This job meant I could work part time so I could study to take the LSAT again and also make good money.” You take another bite of the toast, mainly to make yourself shut up. 

He watches you the entire time, nodding along, his eyes constantly assessing. “Take the LSAT again?” he asks.

“I passed it already and applied to schools but I haven’t heard back yet. Law school is pretty competitive, so I’m going to take it again and hopefully have a better mark for the next round of college applications.” You’re talking too much, you need to shut up and just eat, but Joel doesn’t flinch, doesn’t look away. No one has ever listened to you like that, not even your parents.

“Next round?” He asks curiously. 

You feel your cheeks redden. You don’t want to admit to this obviously successful man in front of you that you probably won’t get accepted to any of the eight universities you applied to. “Yes. It’s competitive, and I probably won’t get in. So I’m preparing to be better the second time.”

“Where did you apply? If that’s not too forward of a question.”

“No, not too forward. Umm, a few places. Strength in numbers, I guess. Harvard, Yale, Columbia, Berkeley, Duke, University of Toronto, but I don’t think I’d survive a Canadian winter. I also applied at Notre Dame and University of Texas here in Austin.”

Joel laughs at you mentioning the Canadian winter and once you’re quiet, he looks down at his expensive dress shoes, “I, umm, I know some higher ups at UT Austin if you need me to put in a good word.”

You smile at him when he looks back up at you, “I don’t think that’s quite how it works, Joel. But thank you.”

The two of you are silent for a moment while you finish your first piece of toast. You glance up at him and he’s looking at you with that same hint of pride he had yesterday while you drank your water. He’s making you feel like eating toast is something to be proud of. You can’t explain it but his facial expression wraps around like a corset. Pulling its metaphoric laces and making you sit up taller, holding your head up higher. With just the shimmer in his deep brown eyes you feel like you could take on the world. You need to break the silence so you say, “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” he says, leaning back to rest on the countertop behind him. His arms uncross, his strong hands wrapping around the countertop on each side of his body. 

“What do you do for a living? To have all this?” You gesture around the house as you sip your sparkling water.

“A few things. I used to own a construction company, sold it a few years ago to retire but I got bored pretty quickly. Now I own a few properties, I rent them out.” You nod as you listen to him, eating your lunch. One hand rubs at his patchy, salt and pepper beard nervously before saying, “I also own a club.”

You let out a little giggle into your water glass, immediately praying that he doesn’t think that was you being rude. Of all the professions that could have come out of his mouth, owning a nightclub was the last thing you expected. Joel smiles at the sweet melodic sound leaving your lips and relief washes over you. “Why’s that so funny?” His voice is light at his inquiry. 

“It’s not,” you say after swallowing your water. He furrows his brows at you. “You just - I mean, I guess I don’t know you, but don’t seem like the nightclub type.”

“You’re right, you don’t know me. But you’re also right that I am not a nightclub type,” he states. Something about the way he says it makes you sense that that’s as far as you’re going to get with it, but you also realize that the club is probably how this man meets young women to bring home.

You put your spoon down and place your hands in your lap. “Can I umm, ask you something else?”

“Of course,” he repeats. 

“What’s with that little dinosaur toy on your coffee maker?”

He smiles and reaches over to grab it, rubbing his thumb along the faded and scuffed brown paint of the little toy. He looks down at it and a hint of sadness seems to fill his coffee and amber eyes as he looks at you. “My daughter, she umm, she got it for me from the prize box in Kindergarten after her mom -” he stops mid sentence, sadness lining his features. Joel’s not married, you roll your eyes at yourself internally for thinking the worst of him. And truthfully, you of all people know he’s not married. You clean his house, you’ve been in his bedroom, and there are no women's clothes. You’ve also been in all the spare bedrooms and there’s no chance another person lives here with him. He continues, choosing his words almost carefully, “Well, just after she was gone.”

“I’m sorry, Mister,” his eyes flash onyx for just a second, he looks lethally sexy and you swallow your words before starting again. “I’m sorry, Joel.”

“It was a long time ago,” he says, placing the dinosaur back. He runs his fingers through his salt and pepper curls, letting out a little sigh. There’s a shift in him, like suddenly the world is heavier. He tries not to let it show, and maybe most people wouldn’t notice, but you see it. The slight fall in his face, a little slump in the shoulders, a breath held for just a second too long. He clears his throat gently and says, “I’ll be in my office. Eat your lunch for me, please.”

Joel

Joel closes the door of his office and rests his forehead against the smooth wooden surface. He can’t remember how much he spent on these doors when he built the house, but he would set any door that separated him from you on fire if he had to. 

Get it together, Joel.

He closes his eyes and only sees you. The way your glossy, pink lips formed a little O as you blew on your soup. The way the gold plated metal spoon slid softly along your tongue. His cock twitches in his pants and he feels the urge to throw all the spoons in his house away. 

Great, you’re jealous of a spoon. 

He shouldn’t be home. He signed a contract, and more importantly, you signed a contract. In order to protect him and you there is to be no contact between the cleaner and the client. That’s what you consented to when you took your job at Maid Discreetly, and now he’s caused you to break that contract not once, but twice. But he cannot seem to get you out of his mind, and as he sat in a meeting at his club he couldn’t focus. You were here, cleaning his home in that form fitting white polo shirt and those black pants that hugged at your hips in all the right places, and he just had to know if you were as beautiful as he remembered. Just a quick peek, he convinced himself as he made up some bullshit excuse to leave. 

When he saw you sitting in your rusty SUV you looked so innocent and pure, you were more than beautiful. The afternoon sun lighting up your high cheekbones and slender, slightly upturned nose, it gave you an almost angelic glow that temporarily took his breath away. If he had to describe you in two words he would say that you were simply ravishing. For the first time in almost thirty years he wished he still had the calming comfort of that black felt cowboy hat. But that soft Stetson went with her because she loved it so much. 

As he caught his breath and looked at you from his garage, he was overcome with an urge to bruise and corrupt you. He’s a bad man for the thoughts he's been having about you. He can’t help himself, but even in his most twisted of fantasies, he’d never do anything you didn’t want him to. But, fuck, he’s sure he could mold you into exactly what he wants in a submissive. 

Joel isn’t new to the world of kink; he’s had many subs, all of whom have referred to him as Mister Miller. However, his name has never sounded so fucking sweet as it did coming off your lips. Those two little words leaving your pouty, pink lips feel like that first sip of whiskey after a long day, and it might kill him if he doesn’t make you his. 

He sighs into the white wood of the door before standing and walking to sit behind his desk. He drops into the soft leather chair and lets his head fall back onto the headrest and closes his eyes. What is it about you? Why can’t he stop thinking about you? You’re way too young. Way too sweet. Way too…sinless. And even though he can’t explain it, and he knows you don’t know it, you’re way too “exactly-what-is-going-to-ruin-his-entire-life”. 

You’re not someone he can just play with. No, he’s good at reading people, and you’re the kind of person that deserves being invested into. You’re also not someone who is going to stick around. You have dreams and well laid out plans on how you’re going to achieve them. He can’t cage you in, he’ll have to let you spread your wings and fly no matter how much he sees himself as the man he used to be reflected back in your eyes.  

He opens his eyes and pictures you kneeling in the corner, perfectly manicured hands that he pays for you to have done weekly folded on your lap as he works. He imagines calling you over with a curl of his fingers, you crawling across the plush carpet and resting your head on his lap as he responds to emails, takes calls, or plans events. He could reach down and run his fingers through your soft, silky hair as you nuzzled deeper into his lap with your cheek. “My perfect, sweet girl,” he’d hum.  

His body falls forward, forehead hitting the sturdy wooden desk with a thump. Jesus Christ, Joel. 

It was one thing when he only found you beautiful - he could live with being attracted to you, he could find a way around it or stuff that attraction down, maybe he’d find a new sub to distract himself with. That would be easy for him, but then you had to open your mouth, you had to speak so passionately about your future. Why couldn’t you just be pretty like all the other women he plays with? You might be one of the most driven people he knows: the way you push yourself, already planning for the next “no”. And that kills him, ruins him really that you are programmed to think there will automatically be a “no” and that you’ll have to endure another round of LSAT’s and college applications. You’re smart, and he wants to kill whoever made you feel like you need to push yourself this hard. 

His phone vibrates in his pocket; annoyance courses through his body until he sees his brother's name across the pristine screen of his newest iPhone Max. 

“Ya?” He says harshly. 

“Everything ok with the alarm?” 

Joel’s mind goes blank, “What?” 

Tommy is silent for a second before he responds slowly, “The alarm? You left in the middle of a meeting because of an alarm.” 

Joel shakes his head. Right, the alarm. The bullshit excuse he made up so he could leave to see you. “Ya, right. Ya, it’s fine. Got it all, umm, all fixed up. Should be back soon.”

“You ok, brother?” Tommy asks suspiciously. “You seemed, I dunno, distracted today.” 

“I’m fine,” Joel snaps. 

“Alright. Well, come back soon, pretty big night here and we need ya.” 

Joel hangs up without saying goodbye. He’s the owner, he knows it’s a big night, but he’s sort of busy having an existential crisis over possibly being in love with his house cleaner. Whoa, in love? Pump the fucking brakes. Joel’s heart stops beating for a second at the thought of it. He can’t possibly be in love; he doesn’t fall in love. No, he decides, it’s just because she’s new, and exactly my type, and it’s been a long time since I found someone that’s my type.

Just as he stands from his desk, he hears the hose outside turn on. You must be at the pool furniture part of your list. He takes this moment to sneak out of his own house, because he’s a weak man when it comes to you, apparently. He slips into the Italian leather front seat and lets the new car smell waft over him; he loves the smells of a new sports car and has never owned one long enough for it to stop smelling that way. It’s a matter of status to him. He takes a good hard look at himself in the rear view mirror. That’s enough now. For both of your sakes. Leave her alone. 

You 

After spraying down the pool furniture you rush inside to warm up. Seriously, who needs their pool stuff cleaned in the fucking winter? As you jog up the stairs to grab Joel’s freshly laundered sheets, you blow into your cupped palms. The warmth spreads from your frozen fingertips to your palms. Joel’s office is empty; he must have left while you were outside. Your brain swirls with unanswered questions as you pull the fitted sheet back onto his king size bed. Why would he come home? First of all, he knows you’re here this time and second of all, he knows he’s not supposed to be here. So why? And then there’s his calculating stare, always watching and usually with a flash of pride in his features. Did he come back here just to talk to you? Maybe even to get to know you? 

It’s safe to say that you’re more confused than ever, and you make a mental schedule of studying and reading to keep you busy later tonight so you won’t spend hours trying to google him again.

It takes way too much effort, and a silent promise to yourself to get back to the gym, but you manage to wrestle the oversized duvet back into its cover just as three o’clock rolls around. You jog down the wide, open staircase and your phone bings in your back pocket. Jamie’s name is splayed across your cracked screen, the sunset from your last trip to California shining back at you. 

What are you doing tonight? Want to make a bunch of money serving drinks topless?

You laugh to yourself. Truthfully, nothing Jamie asks you seems to surprise you, and some sort of odd job where you’re topless or in a sexy outfit is practically a guarantee as a condition of your friendship. As you reach for the black envelope on the kitchen island you text back. 

What?

You barely have the thick parchment of the envelope open when she responds, like she already had the text locked and loaded and was just waiting for you to try to fight her on it.  

Remember Laren? My cousin? She has a topless catering company and needs help tonight. It’s at some exclusive VIP poker game downtown. 4 hours, $300 + tips.

You respond as a thousand dollars falls out of the tip envelope. 

I’m in.

Jamie picks you up a few hours later and parks her blacked out Range Rover in the alleyway behind a shiny black building in the heart of downtown. You’re once again surrounded by wealth and success thanks to Jamie. The dress code tonight is a black pencil skirt, black heels, your tits, and a bow tie that Laren will give you. Speaking of whom, Laren is holding open a staff door for you and Jamie with her hip, waving the two of you into the warmth of the building. She pulls you both into a big hug, “Thank fuck! You two saved my ass tonight. Gotta love having friends and family with great tits!”

“You’re so weird,” Jamie says, brushing past her and into the building. You follow her in before Laren ushers you towards a service elevator. 

“They’ve already started, you’re part of the second shift. I think the first set of girls made about four hundred each in tips, helps if you serve the guys that are winning though. The first round of games is almost over, winners move on soon.”

“How were their tits though? As great as ours?” You joke. Underneath the calm and collected mask you’re wearing you are definitely nervous. All these strange men are going to see you half naked, you know nothing about poker or serving drinks. Your two friends laugh as the elevator opens to a small changing room. Girls from the first shift are putting their tops back on, handing the bow ties back to Laren who gives them to you and Jamie. 

She cocks her head towards a swinging door, “Just through there when you’re done. Go to the bartender for a tray and table assignment. Two girls per table and only six seats so it should be pretty easy. Make sure you smile!”

“Yes, ma’am,” you and Jamie say teasingly as you strip off your tops and bras. She flips you the middle finger as she heads back out to the poker game to supervise. The cool air of the room stiffens your nipples, nerves fluttering behind your navel as you put the bow tie on.

You overhear the girls that are leaving talking about the men, “Did you see the one with the curly hair at the table by the bar?”, one says. 

The other responds, “He was so fucking hot. Total daddy, I think he owns this place.” 

A third pipes up with, “Fuck, I should have flirted more. I could use a sugar daddy.” 

As they walk towards the elevator the first girl says, “Did you know that this is a sex club? Too bad we can’t go explore the rest.” They giggle as they leave and you take a steadying breath. You’re going to be topless, in a sex club. 

“Ready?” Jamie asks, adjusting her bowtie around her slender neck. 

“Did you know this is a sex club?”

She laughs, “Ya, it’s like an exclusive kink club apparently. Laren said it’s owned by two brothers who are insanely hot. Maybe I should see if they need a maid.” She winks at you as you both walk towards the swinging door. 

You step into the dimly lit room and find the bar directly across from you. After rolling your shoulders back and down, you cross the dark hardwood floor to the bar. Everything in the room is black or deep forest green. Black paint covers the walls, your heels click against the sturdy black wooden floors, even the poker tables and chairs are black. A pop of deep green velvet only along the seats and table tops. It looks soft, like one of those fuzzy blankets you have on your couch and you fight the urge to run your hand across one of the empty tables as you pass. 

The bartender hands Jamie a tray first and then quietly tells her to go to the table in the far right corner. She sways her hips like the sultry goddess she is as she walks to the table. Relief floods through you when you notice that none of the men have raised their eyes, they’re focused intently on the card game. This isn’t some sleazy club like you initially thought when you heard ‘sex club’ leave the lips of the other servers. You relax a little at being able to just be yourself tonight, maybe a bit more naked than you’d usually be but yourself nonetheless. 

You take the black marble serving tray as the bartender points to the table closest to the bar. The curly hair man that the women were talking about in the change room faces away from you. Your heart leaps in your chest. Joel. As you approach the other server standing behind the table, he starts to turn his head. Time stops, your heart speeds up, and it starts to feel simultaneously too hot and too cold in the room all at the same time. It’s almost as if he’s turning his head in slow motion. As you catch his side profile he has the same hooked nose, in the dim light of the room you can’t see any greys along his temples and he doesn’t appear to have a beard. After what feels like an hour, his eyes finally meet yours and you let out a breath, although you aren’t sure if it’s disappointment or relief leaving your lungs. It’s not Joel Miller.

“Mind bringin’ me another Macallan neat, sweetheart?” His eyes stay locked on yours as he smiles at you sweetly. He holds the crystal glass out for you and you take it with a soft ‘yes, sir.’

Something about those eyes, and the way they flash darkly at being called sir, feels all too familiar. In the time it takes for you to take the six or seven steps to the bar you convince yourself that it’s just your brain seeing him everywhere. You tell yourself that when you bring this drink back he’ll look nothing like the man you caught knuckles deep in a woman as she cried out, nothing like the man who was so gentle and sweet, yet slightly bossy and commanding with you this afternoon. 

That’s definitely it, you say to yourself with finality. You’re just cock drunk over a cock you’ll never have. 

The bartender pops the whiskey open and the hair on the back of your neck stands up, you can feel someone looking at you. Almost feel their stare heating the right side of your body. It feels as if all of your exposed skin is being covered by the gaze of whomever is looking at you, shielding you protectively from the view of the other men. The bartender's eyes flick to the corner of the room and then back to you while he hands you the drink. The shift of his gaze confirms that you weren’t imagining it, there is someone looking at you. You place the whiskey on your tray and spin cautiously to the right, stopping dead in your tracks when you lock eyes with Joel Miller. He looks dangerous, sitting at a low table along the wall, his face just barely illuminated by a single candle on the dark wooden table top. His fingers are laced together, forearms of his black dress shirt resting on the knees of his black dress pants. His lips are pressed in a thin, disapproving line. 

He stalks over to you and you wish your tray was empty so you could shield your tits from him. The way he moves is almost menacing, like a jaguar stalking his prey, his eyes are almost black in the low light of the room. Your nipples stiffen under his intense gaze, your mouth fills with saliva and you gulp loudly. You stand frozen, the whiskey for that man you had convinced yourself isn’t related to Joel forgotten about on your tray. He plucks the drink off the marble slab, the glass looking like one of those disposable paper cups you have in your bathroom in his hand. He takes two long strides and drops the glass beside the man. 

“Thanks,” he starts to coo, a ten dollar bill clasped between two fingers. After realizing it’s not you, he adds a confused, “Brother?” 

He tries to pull the money back, but Joel is quicker. Snatching it from his brother's grasp and tucking it into the breast pocket of his dress shirt. Joel turns back to you and steps in closely, your lower back hitting the cold marble bartop and you gasp, arching your back and naked breasts towards Joel. His jaw flexes as he fights to keep his eyes level with yours. 

“What are you doin’ here?” he says in a harsh whisper. 

“I’m working,” it comes out a lot more bratty and defiant than you intend it to. 

“Not here you ain’t.”

You take a small step forward, your hard nipples lightly grazing the soft fabric of his black dress shirt. “I’m not leaving.” 

His hand circles your bicep and you twist out of his grasp. “You’re makin’ a scene, darlin’.” 

“You are, Joel. I’m just trying to make money.” He grabs you more firmly this time, not tight enough to hurt you but enough for you to know he means business. 

What’s his problem anyway? He doesn’t own you. What you do outside his home is none of his business. He can boss you around via an app every other week, but that’s it. That’s where it ends. You glance desperately over at Jamie to find her back to you as she speaks softly with a man who’s waiting for the next round of poker. Her hand grazes his bicep flirtatiously, she makes it look too easy to get what she wants from men. Joel guides you towards the staff changing room, keeping your body in the dark edges of the room. He’s breathing heavily through his nose, like an angry dragon and you’re honestly surprised smoke isn’t billowing out of his nostrils. 

In the bright lights of the changing room you feel more exposed than ever. You want to lift your tray, but in order to prove to him that you don’t care what he or anyone thinks you don’t. In fact, you stand up taller, holding your head high and pushing your chest out. It’s infinitesimal but he looks down just for a nano second. You smirk when his eyes come back to you. 

“Put a shirt on.” 

“If none of the other girls have to put a shirt on then neither do I.” You pop your hip out and pull your arm free from his large calloused hand and rest it on your hip. 

“Don’t fight me on this.” 

“I’m not fighting. You are. So all those other girls are fine, but I’m not? Why? My tits aren’t big enough for you?” 

“That’s not,” he pinches the bridge of his nose and takes a breath with his eyes closed. When he reopens them his eyes land softly on yours. “I just need you not to be here. Please.” 

Bright red anger sparks along the sides of your eyes. Seriously, who does he think he is? “You aren’t the boss here, Mister Miller.” 

“Do NOT call me that.” His neck flushes the same colour as your vision. You stand your ground, eyes narrowing into glaring slits. What is his aversion to being called Mister Miller, and why does it turn you on a little bit to rile him up when you use it?

“You aren’t my boss or my dad, Joel. You can’t make me leave or tell me what jobs I can or can’t take.” You’ve figuratively dug your heels in, you aren’t leaving. He can’t make you. Only Laren or whoever owns this sex club can ask that of you. “You can’t kick me out like you own the place.” 

“Actually,” he says darkly, “I can.” 

“What?” You say through a nervous breath, eyes widening. 

“I own the place. So I can kick you out, and I am kicking you out. Get your shirt.” 

Your shoulders fall slightly. You feel about two feet tall with the realization that he doesn’t want you here. This afternoon you thought that maybe he cared, he seemed like he cared, and now you’re half naked and he wants you to leave. He watches as you unclasp your bow tie and slide on your bra and shirt. 

You look over at Jamie’s clothes and it dawns on you that you didn’t drive here. Your face falls as you blink around the room and then towards Joel. 

“What’s wrong?” he says through thick concern.

“Nothing. I just…” 

He steps towards you, he’s so broad, his presence so large that you start to feel almost claustrophobic when he’s this close, but you never want him to step away. You’d happily let him smother you with his innate Joel-ness. “You just what?”

“I didn’t drive here,” you say quietly, looking down at your hands. Your left thumb nail immediately finds purchase along the cuticle of your right thumb. 

His strong palm cups your chin, lifting until he’s looking at you again. You’re becoming more and more used to the amount of eye contact Joel seems to make. He seems constantly dialed in on you when you’re in the same room.

Yes, I would be very happy to let him smother me. 

The harsh lines of his face soften, “I can get you a car. They’ll meet you at the staff door.” 

You nod into his hand and find it exceedingly hard to stay mad at him when he looks at you that way. He drops your chin and turns his large, broad body back towards the swinging door. He looks over his shoulder and says, “I’m sorry. I just can’t have you here, this is on me.” His voice is soft and sad, almost as if he’s full of remorse and just hoping you won’t hate him before heading back into the poker game. Any bit of anger is flushed from your system, replaced with the disappointment of having to leave wherever Joel is.  

You drag your feet to the elevator and then towards the staff exit. You let the heavy door close behind you with a loud bang as a blacked out SUV pulls up. The driver says your first and last name as he opens the back door for you. You look towards the black building one last time. 

“I’m sorry. I just can’t have you here, this is on me.” 

JMKink is written in shiny metallic black on the door and all the information of the evening hits you at once. JMK. Joel Miller Kink. Joel Miller, insanely handsome millionaire, owns a sex club.

Next Chapter

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[simplyluunaa]

˙⊹ ੈ✰[Love Languages]✰ ੈ⊹˙

-ˏˋ. rules + masterlist ˊˎ-

Fandom: Danganronpa

Characters: Makoto Naegi, Aoi Asahina, Byakuya Togami, Celestia Ludenberg, Chihiro Fujisaki, Hifumi Yamada, Junko Enoshima, Kiyotaka Ishimaru, Kyoko Kirigiri, Leon Kuwata, Mondo Owada, Mukuro Ikusaba, Sakura Ogami, Sayaka Maizono, Toko Fukawa, Genocider Syo, Yasuhiro Hagakure

Warnings: !!NOT SPOILER FREE!! Non-despair AU! Other than that, none!! Just fluff!

Other: Non-despair Junko, he/him pronouns for Chihiro, may have a few misspellings lol

A/N: First post!! Hello, people reading this!! Reblogs, likes, and follows are always appreciated! Constructive criticism is also welcome!! Also, I couldn’t decide if I wanted to make this established relationship or like a mutual crush thing, so I tried to make it so it could go either way. Plus this is like my first time writing ANY of these characters, so please excuse any mischaracterizations or anything, I tried my best!

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡⟢Makoto Naegi 

His love language is Quality Time

I feel like he’d be big into conversation

Doesn’t matter about what this man just likes to yap

If you are also talkative the two of you annoy the fuck out of everyone else because do you two ever stop talking??

But even if you’re quieter, he will talk enough for the both of you

Likes to watch movies and shows with you!!

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡⟢Byakuya Togami

His love language is Giving Gifts

He wouldn't be that affectionate of a person side from this I fear

Plus he always brushes it off if you ask

But he was thinking about you!! <3

He’ll legit buy anything that reminds him of you or he thinks you may enjoy

Man is made of money ofc he’s gonna spoil you while also acting like he hates you

Just how he is I’m afraid

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡⟢Chihiro Fujisaki

His love language is Quality Time

I feel like he’d be very much into baking with you

Idk man feels like a baker

Also, he’d be the best person to talk to about your interests because he will listen and do his best to remember every detail!!

Do the same for him!!

May or may not install Alter Ego on one of your devices so you can spend time with them while he isn’t around

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡⟢Hifumi Yamada

His love language is Giving Gifts

If you like a game or anime…be prepared

He will buy you just so much merch

Figures, posters, shirts, hoodies, plushies, everything 

If you’re especially fond of a specific character he will draw them for you!!

Maybe even write a short Doujinshi with a favorite ship of yours if he has the time

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡⟢Kiyotaka Ishimaru

His love language is Acts of Service

He wants to be the Prime Minister, of course, he likes to help!

Like, I don’t know, I just have this thought like…

He’d so help you study, and like clean up your room for you

Also, I feel like if you have long hair he’d definitely brush it for you in the mornings

Maybe that’s just wishful thinking though idk

But also if you do something for him to lighten his workload??

He might cry, just sayin'

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡⟢Leon Kuwata

His love language is Physical Touch

I just know this man desperately needs to touch everyone around him all the time (no I’m not projecting hush)

Like, he’s always touching someone, like an arm around his friend's shoulder or playfully ruffling someone’s hair

He’s just that kinda guy

He’d also for sure put his arm around your waist or shoulder whenever you’re around

Also, he’d probably grab your face occasionally to just squish your cheeks and tease you

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡⟢Mondo Owada

His love language is Acts of Service

He’s a big strong man!! Of course he’s gonna do everything he can for his partner!!

No, but for real, he will do anything you ask of him AND MORE

He’s just a big softie!! And a gentleman!!

Opens doors for you, pulls your seat out for you, if you two are close enough will let you wear his jacket if you get cold

Especially if you're a girl!!

Diya raised him right!!

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡⟢Yasuhiro Hagakure

His love language is Physical Touch

Ok, this one is probably gonna be short cause I do not know a whole lot about this man

I feel like he’d be laid back about it, like with Leon

He’s just a touchy person, even with his friends

So expect him to just grab you and pull you into a hug, or ruffle your hair, stuff like that

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡⟢Aoi Asahina

Her love language is Physical Touch

You cannot convince me she wouldn’t always greet you with a hug

Like I just know she’s always touching you in some way

Holding hands, or her arm around your waist or shoulder

Even if you two are for some reason not touching, she’d still be incredibly close to you

If you let her she will just stand behind you and rest her chin on your shoulder

She does not care who’s around!! She wants to cuddle you she will do so!!

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡⟢Celestia Ludenberg

Her love language is Giving Gifts

Celestia has made a whole lotta money from gambling, so you cannot tell me she wouldn’t spoil you.

You and her cat ofc, can’t forget about Grand Bois Chéri Ludenberg

Also, I’m split between thinking that every gift would be accompanied by a grand gesture, and thinking it wouldn’t be uncommon to just find wrapped gifts on your desk or something

She’s probably very nonchalant with giving gifts (most of the time) but if you get her anything unprompted?

She melts

Like it doesn’t matter if it's expensive or not, it's just the fact that you're giving it to her that makes her go kinda mushy

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡⟢Junko Enoshima

Her love language is Acts of Service

But like…in a very strange and roundabout way

Like even without the despair, she’s still…Junko, ya know?

She’ll trip people who are rude to you, help you cheat on homework, forge documents for you

Ya know, normal bestie things!!

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡⟢Kyoko Kirigiri

Her love language is Quality Time

I mean, it seems obvious, doesn’t it?

I think she wouldn’t want to push conversation, just being together is enough for her

She’d like to go on walks or drink tea together

A lot of long comfortable silences with her that’s for sure

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡⟢Mukuro Ikusaba

Her love language is Physical Touch

I feel like this is less about affection and more about wanting to keep you safe though

Like, she’d wanna be near you just in case someone (Junko) tries to hurt you.

Which opens up a lot of opportunities to touch you!!

She’d probably be kinda shy/indifferent to it at first, but after a while, she softens up and allows hugs and such

Would have her hand on the small of your back nearly at all times

Also is the kind to pull you out of danger/away from dangerous people

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡⟢Sakura Ogami

Her love language is Quality Time

Drink tea with this girl RIGHT NOW!!

She’d definitely want like an hour of just uninterrupted time with you every day

Also feel like she’d be big into taking long walks with you, maybe at night or when the sun is setting idk idk 

Also very much feel as if she’d want you to work out with her

But if you don’t work out, she may or may not bench press you sorry

Or like have you sit on her back while she does push-ups

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡⟢Sayaka Maizono

Her love language is Giving Gifts

Girlie makes a ton of money, she is SPOILING you!!

Buying you outfits, jewelry, expensive makeup, cute plushies!! Anything you want!

Would probably try and take you out on a shopping spree but doesn’t wanna be interrupted by fans

But she would give you her card and tell you to go crazy!! Maybe idk

If you give her a gift? Especially if it’s something you made?? Girl is melting.

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡⟢Toko Fukawa

Her love language is Acts of Service

She does stuff for you, but always vehemently denies it

Helps you clean up your room, just to say she was just looking for something

Or makes you food and just says she made too much 

If you're someone who tends to overwork yourself, she’ll stay near you while she writes to make sure you take breaks and eat and drink water and whatnot

Which probably also helps her to remember to do those things!!

Win-win scenario!!

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡⟢Genocider Syo

Her love language is Physical Touch

Tries to make out with you in public

Will also grope you without warning

Sorry but if you want her to stop you gonna have to do something about it

However, even with all that she can also be really sweet at times

I feel like she’d thrive on cuddles

Even if she does feel you up while doing so

[bl00d1nk]

ꜱʟᴀꜱʜᴇʀ ʜᴇᴀᴅᴄᴀɴɴᴏɴꜱ; ᵈᵃᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉᵐ

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

​🇨​​🇭​​🇦​​🇷​​🇦​​🇨​​🇹​​🇪​​🇷​​🇸​: brahms heelshire, patrick bateman, herbert west

​🇼​​🇦​​🇷​​🇳​​🇮​​🇳​​🇬​​🇸​: slashers ofc, brahms lack of hygiene, brahms being possesive, brahms stalking you basically,patrick being a dick, vauge nsfw in patricks, dead people obvi, body snatching, also not read over so if theres any mistakes whoopsies

​🇦​​🇺​​🇹​​🇭​​🇴​​🇷​​🇸​ ​🇳​​🇴​​🇹​​🇪​: first time writing for slashers omds + writing for the first time properly in like a year so teehee also lemme know if you want this for other slashers :PPP also i tried to write this v gn but idk if i acc did so pls gimme suggestions on how to keep everything in my writing inclusive plsss!!! also if ur wondering what "w/" means it just means with im just too lazy to write with teehee

¬𝙱𝚁𝙰𝙷𝙼𝚂 𝙷𝙴𝙴𝙻𝚂𝙷𝙸𝚁𝙴¬

𖦹 stinky

𖦹 i dont mean that in a funny way like this man fucking REEKS

𖦹 this means you will have to get him to wash himself

𖦹 only perk of that is showering n bathing w/ him, its a real big part of your relationship

𖦹 he likes it because hes close to you and it gives him a lot of comfort and feels really cared for if you wash his hair for him + likes the feeling of your fingers massaging his scalp

𖦹 he likes leaving things he thinks you'll like all around the house

𖦹 he found a crusty ass ring he'll think you'll like?KABOOSH!!!!! its on the bathroom counter

𖦹 he also doesn't take too kindly to anyone you talk to that isn't him, he gets really jealous n upset over that

𖦹 this makes him extremly bratty unfortunately

𖦹 prepare for him being in the walls and banging on them for hours on end to piss you off and placing that stupid doll everywhere just to get a scare out of you

𖦹 will literally refuse to do anything for you

𖦹 buttt you can make it up to him by telling him theres nothing to worry about n making him a wee sandwich + giving him kisses, easy peasy squeeze the lemon (im really hoping some of yous got that reference)

𖦹 brahms also likes cuddling

𖦹 a lot

𖦹 you're sitting down reading or on your phone? not without him on your lap nuzzing into your neck having a wee nap

𖦹 you might end up with dead legs by the end of it but hey! it was worth it

𖦹 probably......

𖦹 he just stares at you a lot but dw! not in a creepy way (from his perspective at least), he's just admiring your beauty

𖦹 really likes it when you read to him + it puts him to sleep

𖦹 also loves it when you brush his hair, surprise surprise it also puts him to sleep

𖦹 CLINGY!!!!!!!!! so very very very very CLINGY

𖦹 if you leave the room for a second he will follow doesnt matter if he knows where you're going he will follow

𖦹 gets so upset if you leave during cuddling even if its to pee

𖦹 he will whine n grasp n tug at what you're wearing in an attempt to get you to stay w/ him

𖦹 the time he spends following n watching you could be stalking atp

𖦹 seperation anxiety? he knows her, very well

𖦹 will cry if you leave the house until you come back, n the moment you do he practically jumps you, crying and wailing into your shoulder begging you not to leave him ever again

𖦹 will have no intentions of letting go of you for the rest of the day

𖦹 he also really like sleeping in the same bed w/ you

𖦹 he likes that he knows you're there, you can tuck him in, read to him, cuddle him, give him forehead kisses n comfort him in case he has a nightmare or vice versca

𖦹 n e ways 8.5/10 -1 for stinkyness, -0.5 for well him being him ig

¬𝙿𝙰𝚃𝚁𝙸𝙲𝙺 𝙱𝙰𝚃𝙴𝙼𝙰𝙽¬

𖦹 before i get into this one i actually hate patrick bateman w/ a burning passion for very obvious reasons so i struggled HARD w/ this

𖦹 alr so we all saw that les mis poster in the opening scene so he deffo would bring you along to watch any high end musicals w/ him

𖦹 SKINCARE!!!!!!!!! he has a whole ass ROUTINE which he will explain to you in great detail and explain why the water has to be a certain temp n why this needs to be put on this way n that needs to be put on that way

𖦹 would let you do skincare on him but beware that he will check the entire ingredients list before you put it on his face

𖦹 its rather boring to listen to but he looks so proud of himself while explaining it, how could you not listen?????

𖦹 he spoils you rotten like its acc so bad

𖦹 you wanted those fancy ass pairs of shoes? they're already in your hands

𖦹 you want a reservation at dorsia? you've got one

𖦹 you literally want anything in the world? you'll have it before you even know you want it

𖦹 he obviously doesn't like people apart from himself so when he found the slightest bit of attraction to you he immediatley became infatuated with you and your life

𖦹 why were you making him feel this way? how were you making him feel this way? was it sorcery? was he going insane? yeah

𖦹 suprise suprise this did lead him to asking you out which led you up to here getting whatever you want

𖦹 hes a jealous fucker i can tell you that

𖦹 especially when he sees you within a 6ft distance of paul allen

𖦹 he storms over and makes some passive aggresive comment toward the two of you and then tries to keep himself cool w/ some swanky inner monologue and eventually drags you away because he "needed to talk to you"

𖦹 spoiler alert, he didn't

𖦹 all this leads to is some rather lewd acts back at his apartment as he tries to reassure himself that he's much better than paul allen and taunts you asking if you think paul allen could make you feel this way

𖦹 rants on to you about his music collection and explains how he thinks this song led them to stardom and someone was an idiot for not releasing this and that as a single and not putting these songs in this album and yadayadaya

𖦹 great if you actually are bothered to listen to him rant on for ages horrific if you aren't, gets quite offended if you don't show much interest in his music

𖦹 i get if if you don't tho, its really something...

𖦹 we all know this man is a complete germaphobe so be absolutley horrifically aware of that unless you fancy getting yelled at

𖦹 he love love LOVESS watching texas chainsaw massacare with you, he loves it when you twos just sit there in silence and cuddle while watching people get brutally attacked n chased, how romantic!

𖦹 finds it funny when you grimace or go 'oh my god' at any brutal scene in it

𖦹 touchy

𖦹 v e r y t o u c h y

𖦹 at any public event he always has a hand snaked around your waist or has his arm linked in yours

𖦹 even in is apartment he still has that hand snaked aorund your waist

𖦹 not a fan of kissing bc he's a germaphobe but because he knows were you've been most of the time he dislikes it a little less

𖦹 prefers giving forehead kisses tho as its quick and much more hygenic than lips

𖦹 god that was tough to write but overall, 7.5/10, -2.5 for being himself. i hate him too much to give him a better rating so ja

¬𝙷𝙴𝚁𝙱𝙴𝚁𝚃 𝚆𝙴𝚂𝚃¬

𖦹 i am so horrendously excited to write this because for the last like 4 days i have not stopped thinking about reanimator, i eat sleep breath the franchise, and herbert west is such a giggle so teehee

𖦹 alright if you're not in the science field or have any connection to dan hes probably not going to take an interest in you as you're not one of his areas of interest

𖦹 if you are in the category of herbert wests interests well done! he tolerates you

𖦹 like patrick would notice how weird he felt around you and would probably blame it on 'primal urges' ew

𖦹 he would most likely ignore them until he can't, and it eventually all bubbles over and he just can't resist inviting you to his basement of wonders

𖦹 he just watches you intently the entire time your there much like brahms does, also not in a creepy way (in his eyes) just admiring you

𖦹 he probably goes on a rather detailed explanation of his work and what he did to get here

𖦹 if you ever feel a lil faint abt all that stuff he just puts a reassuring hand on your shoulder cuz hes a lil awkward

𖦹 lowkey enlists you alongside dan to go steal bodies and experiment on them

𖦹 if you ever get attacked by one of the re-animated he literally doesn't leave your side, mainly to see the severity of your injuries to examine the strength of the reanimated and the other tiny bit because he cares for you

𖦹 has shit talking sessions about dr hill w/ you, it mainly consists of him getting rather heated over the fact he plagiarizes his work and ya know the whole 6-12 mins thing

𖦹 is very clingy with you when dr hill is around as he doesn't want him to make any creepy ass remarks about you so he sticks to your side like he sticks to his research

𖦹 really appreciates is when you cook for him as he's a total basement dweller and doesn't leave it for food

𖦹 so lets say you actually did make something for him he would be really surprised and would be rather amused that you care enough to make him something and he'll gladly eat it

𖦹 also doesn't sleep a lot, so if and when he comes up from the basement he will be taking a nap on you

𖦹 speaking of him taking naps, he'll just plonk on top of you when he wants to take a nap so

𖦹 yay!!!

𖦹 like patrick with music herbert will rant on about science to you

𖦹 at any time, like you could be in bed ready to finally sleep and then he starts rambling about the R.E.M cycle and how benificial sleep is for the body yet he gets absolutley NONE

𖦹 isn't very good at expressing affection for you bc he's herbert so those naps and his rants are actually his way of showing he rlly likes you

𖦹 kissing isn't his favourite thing in the world bc of germs and stuff, so he presses quick kisses to your forehead, nose and cheek such a gentleman

𖦹 but, when herberts all whiny and annoyed at life he will be down for a cheeky make out sesh

𖦹 he gets very flustered after it which is pretty funny to watch so he usually distracts himself with science

𖦹 i genuinely couldn't tell you if he would use petnames or not

𖦹 will use your name 99.9999999999% of the time, just maybe will call you darling

𖦹 just maybe.....

𖦹 n e ways dunno what else to write so 8.9/10, -1.1 for being a body snatcher ig

omds that was so hard and I was gonna add more characters but i kinda got lazy but PLEEEAAAASSEEEE lemme know what you guys thought ty :3

[as-everlasting-as-the-sun]

i went to the Terrible Influence Tour in Phoenix on sunday, which was my first time going to a tour ever, and had a blast!! :D somehow dan and phil are even more funny and endearing irl if that’s possible

(standing outside for an hour in almost 100 degree weather was worth it honestly, i honestly barely noticed bc i was so excited. at least it was in the shade thankfully)

i got to go the the preshow q&a which was so much fun, i ended up recording some but not all of it.

the vip silver merch included w the ticket had a tote bag, a 5-pack of photocards w a guaranteed shiny, a dnp lanyard, a “very important phan” friendship bracelet, and a small poster! (there was also a very nice phannie there giving out friendship bracelets, if anyone knows who they were lmk!!)

these are the photocards i got!!

there were special dan and phil cocktails (and “good influence” lemonades) which dnp had ofc, it may have made the show slightly better lmao. the cocktails were both very good and they all came with cool glow straws :3

this was also where the iconic “married life” dan tiktok was posted so i thank Celebrity Theatre for these things

my favorite songs on their preshow playlist were Starburned and Unkissed by Caroline Polachek which was made for the I Saw The TV Glow soundtrack (i know they picked this for their trans audience, ps watch isttvg if u haven’t please), Lunch by Billie Eilish (iconic for the bis), and Hot To Go which most of the audience was singing and dancing along to ofc (u can see this on the phoenix celebrity theatre’s insta story from that day)

there was cool art on the wall right before the stairwell!! :)

i went with my mom and brother (who i converted into a phan last year! sry if u see this eric) and my mom is now fully invested in dnp! i’m pretty sure she ended up screaming louder than anyone else there and was waving around a “dan and phil made me gay” T-shirt lmao

i also got to meet a friend i found on tumblr bc of this tour which was prob the best part besides getting to see dnp!! ^u^ dan actually called their fit slay which it very much was.

yes I realize we’re covering up their names it was very hectic okay.

i got the “parasocial social club” shirt and my mom ended up buying me the “dan and phil made me gay! and all i got was this lousy tshirt” and the “dan and phil are my dads” hat which i was very happy about!

and a golden pig shot, they were the real star ⭐️🐷

it was an incredible experience for my first tour!! somehow even after being 10 feet away from dan and phil im still not convinced they’re real tangible people. here’s hoping it’s not the last tour they do and next time maybe i’ll get a meet and greet ticket, but this was the most fun ive ever had 💙🖤 (u know i had to say it.)

[pureforestspirits]

➛ IF THE ATWOW CHARACTERS HAD TUMBLR

featuring! tsireya, lo’ak, neteyam, kiri, ao’nung, rotxo!

just for fun. i couldn’t decide if i wanted to make this a human au, or keep them na’vi… so it’s a mix of both!

TSIREYA - @reefprincessreya 𓇼

she has the most beautiful, aesthetically-pleasing layout you’ll ever see.

username: “reef” because she loves the sea (duh), and “princess” because it’s really pretty + feminine, and she literally is a reef princess after all. finally, her cute nickname “reya”, where the alliteration makes her url extra catchy !

her bio would totally have some beautiful quote.. like, “the way of water has no beginning and no end.” ;)

tsireya does it alllllll. she has her personal tags that she puts on every post to keep organized, and she’ll spend hours on her new themes.

╭ @reefprincessreya

┆sooo happy! our brothers and sisters have

┆returned today, and i finally saw my spirit sister

┆again! she is healthy and well <3

╰ #reya’s life ˚୨୧⋆｡

unlike the rest, who prefer the more private feel of their blog, tsireya shared hers with all her friends who all consistently use tumblr together!

LO'AK - @yooooitsloak

username: he just typed in the first thing that came to mind. 

lo’ak literally made a tumblr account just because of tsireya. 

it’s almost a ghost blog, but he at least took the time to add a pfp (which is a photo of his fav pair of sneakers). 

lo’ak likes every single one of tsireya’s posts. even if there’s only 1 note; it’s lo’ak. 

(we love a supportive boyfriend)

NETEYAM - @burntouteclipse ✰

neteyam is the ultimate aesthetic, educated and sophisticated king for liking tumblr by himself ✊🏻 (no shade to lolo though). like ‘reya, he also has a clean, aesthetically-pleasing layout, but it’s more masculine.

username: just sounds cool, y’know? he also works his ass off and is “burnt out” after all (perfection and golden-childism ain’t easy), and eclipse is just a time of day neteyam really enjoys where he gets to relax and spend time for himself. 

neteyam doesn’t complain much in real life, or let out a lot of his feelings. tumblr is like his peaceful, personal, private corner where he can speak his mind, which he really appreciates. 

i can see him reblogging and following fashion accounts that he likes, as well as occasionally posting a little ramble. ‘teyam’s page is scattered with some little thoughts and feelings here and there between reblogs of cool streetwear clothing and artistic photos/photography (for human neteyam). 

you’ll see him and tsireya interact with each other on occasion! 

╭ @burntouteclipse

┆ accidentally hit my knee earlier today,

╰  and now i can barely run properly. shit

⠀ ╭ @reefprincessreya

⠀ ┆ oh no! i’m sorry to hear. hope you

⠀ ╰ ➤ will feel better soon, ma ‘eylan! ♥︎

⠀ ╭ @burntouteclipse ☆ Original Poster

⠀ ╰ ➤ thank you tsireya

if there’s a girl he likes, neteyam’ll try and see if she has a tumblr. he’ll eventually find it, and enjoys scrolling through her posts + loves reading her little rambles. but he does it from a distance, and doesn’t interact (you’d never know. he’s the epitome of secret admirer). . .

KIRI - @atokirina333 ❀

username: kiri’s a spiritual gal, what can i say? not to mention, she was named after the atokirina, so it’s perfect. there’s also angel numbers!! ofc!!! ps: this url was taken at first, but she tracked down the person and convinced them to give it to her. somehow. 

unlike neteyam who writes ‘n posts small things sometimes… kiri can rant here. don’t get me wrong, she’s not posting paragraphs, but she definitely lets loose when she wants to.

human kiri posts her plants, her crystals, her music vinyls, the desserts she likes baking, her books and posters, literally anything and everything you’d find in her room because it’s all pretty.

what else would you see on her page? poetry. reblogs of quotes and aesthetic photos, and especially pretty photos of nature (kiri and ‘reya’s tumblrs are similar in this sense)!

she and tsireya reblog each other very often! 

AO'NUNG

"what's tumblr?"

ROTXO - @justrotxo

username: he’s just rotxo! ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ though when he first joined, his @ was originally “reefboyrotxo”, but he (jokingly) got called out for copying tsireya, so he changed it.

hm, tbh, i don’t really see him as an avid tumblr user!

i have a headcanon that human rotxo'd be a surfer though, so i feel like he’d probably have 1-2 posts of a beautiful sunset + his surfboard, and like one post of a random thought he had. that’s it. his theme would also be blue/teal. 

i feel like he would’ve gotten tumblr because of his friends, and goes on just to see all of their posts. 

he interacts with/likes the posts of everyone in his circle! :) 

. . .

AO'NUNG (continued)

“what’s tumblr?”

it’s a social media app. your sister likes using it.

“oh, ok. whatever.”

neteyam sully uses it too. oh, and his brother lo’ak.

ao’nung is already intrigued at neteyam, but when he hears lo’ak is on there? oh boy.

he immediately signs up, and then gets all of his friends to as well.

soon, lo’ak is flabbergasted at the sudden flood of random anonymous troll asks he receives on his empty blog. 

ao’nung was going to anonymously send something to ‘teyam as well (obviously not to lo’ak’s extent), but after finding and looking through it… he actually secretly likes neteyam’s blog.

after everyone find out it’s him, he still eventually just keeps his tumblr to continue messing with the sullys, and his sister. popping in with a “DELETE THIS 🔥🔥🔥” to show he’s indeed still there, once every few eclipses. 

╭ @reefprincessreya

╰ ➤ ao’nung. rä’ä.

the end!

╭ @pureforestspirits

┆heyy! thanks so much for reading <3  

┆fun fact: i started writing this in my notes

┆app one day at like 4am. the sleep

┆deprivation was worth it, i think.

┆it was really fun to make LMAO

┆

┆all interactions are muuuch appreciated,

┆since i’m still pretty new to posting. thank u!

╰#✺ ࿐ ۫ 

  6 notes  wink wink

© 𝒑𝒖𝒓𝒆𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒔𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒔.

[humanpurposes]

Just for a moment, part iii

Tom Bennett has a habit of climbing through her bedroom window whenever he's in trouble // Main Masterlist

Tom Bennett x OFC

Warnings: 18+, mentions of war and death, friends to lovers, angst, fluff, smut, Tom Bennett's daddy issues

Words: 5400

A/n: Also available to read on AO3.

Monday 27th May, 1940

The morning starts off with a miserable drizzle. Kitty watches the grey fade to warmth through her shift, until the early evening sun shines brightly through the wide windows of the shop.

The month of May has very much been the same, cold and wet at first, but the weather has been clearing up nicely. Dad is devoted to the garden now, digging up the grass and planting vegetables in every free space he can. It’s on posters all over the shop: Dig For Victory. Live off spuds and SPAM when the rations run out.

Life feels mechanical; most days she doesn’t feel like a real person at all. All week she stands behind the counter, exchanging coupons for pitiful amounts of tea and sugar, stocking up the rack of newspapers and skimming over whatever horrors the headlines are screaming about that day. When she gets home, she pulls together some kind of dinner from what food they have while dad sits by the wireless. When mam gets home from the munitions factory, they gather around the table and eat in silence.

The house is so quiet without the boys. The only time it feels a little lively is when they get a letter from one of them, but they aren’t very consistent, especially considering there’s three of them.

Every so often, she gets a letter from Tom Bennett, but she tends to keep those to herself.

Her life has become a waiting game, she realises, existing between brief moments of happiness with nothing but her memories to entertain herself. She finds herself thinking about Tom an awful lot. It’s not so bad during the day when she has something to do, but when she lies alone at night, her mind can wander. She still leaves her window unlocked and huddles close to the wall because maybe— just maybe, he’ll come through the window and fill the space beside her.

Once she’s packed up the register and put up the shutters, she waves goodbye to Mr Gregory and leaves him to lock the door.

She runs into the postman at the top of Slade Grove. She feels slightly less guilty for not remembering his name when he greets her as “Catherine.” It’s what her teachers at school used to call her, and it’s what mam calls her when she’s in a particularly foul mood. Now it just puts her on edge.

“Can I give these to you now?” he says, handing her a stack of three envelopes. “Saves me a house later on.”

She flicks through them as she carries on walking. Two are addressed to Michael Wheelan and they look boring, letters from the bank or something official, but upon seeing the third she stops and smiles.

Miss Catherine Wheelan 28 Slade Grove Longsight, Manchester United Kingdom

It’s written in Tom’s handwriting.

She tears it open immediately, her eyes flickering between the page and the street ahead, weaving through any passersby.

Dear Kitty,

Sorry it’s been a while since the last one. Morale hasn’t been the best to be honest. Do you know what they’re calling the last eight months now? “The phoney war”. Apparently things are only going to get worse from here, not that it’ll help your nerves.

Thanks for checking up on dad for me. I do worry about him being on his own, with Lois being away and all. I wonder if she’ll be back yet by the time you get this. Have you heard much from your lads? I hope they’re doing alright.

You’ll be pleased to know I haven’t been picking as many fights, but sure you know me, sometimes I can’t help myself. I’ve been reading over what you said. I know it’s not helpful, I know it’s stupid, but then I’ve never been one to think things through, have I? I suppose that’s not much of an excuse. It’s instinctive. It’s like my head tells me what I’m doing is wrong, but I don’t know what else to do.

And we could die any day. Kitty, the state I’ve seen some of these men in…

The writing becomes crooked and trails off, ending with a smudge of ink.

Maybe I should write about something less depressing? Did I tell you about this gorgeous bird I met at Port Stanley?

Kitty’s heart drops.

Beautiful thing she is. The moment I saw her I knew I had to have her, so I stowed her away and brought her on board with me. She whistles a lot, and she has these lovely yellow feathers that really brighten up the bunk. She’s a noisy eater though, munches on seeds like she’ll never eat again. I’ve named her Vera.

I can see the look on your face now. Don’t worry, pretty Kitty, there’s no other bird that could ever replace you.

“Charming,” she mutters to herself.

I think I quite like these letters really, it’s nice to give myself a moment to think, even if I can’t hear from you straight away. That’s when I miss you the most, right after I’ve sealed the envelope and written your address. I hate the waiting.

She glances up, seeing she’s only a few doors down from her house.

I should have leave coming up soon. I’m looking forward to putting my legs on dry land and sleeping on a proper mattress…

She checks the top of the page. The letter is dated from weeks ago. “Soon” could mean anything.

… and the odd late-night tryst to see my fancy woman at number 28.

She scoffs a small laugh.

I bet you’d slap me for that. God I hope your mum doesn’t get her hands on this before you. Ey up Mrs Wheelan, see what I meant was, your Kitty’s a very well-mannered lady.

She purses her lips in an attempt not to laugh, coming to stop before her own front door.

Take care of yourself Kitty. Don’t spend too much time fretting over me.

Your dear friend,

Tom Bennett

Her smile fades quickly— why shouldn’t she worry about him?

It’s always the same with letters from Tom. Her heart leaps and for a few brief moments she feels so bright, just to have some kind of news from him. She could read pages and pages of his stupid ramblings and his moments of sincerity, but then it’s over all too soon. He signs off as her dear friend, then suddenly the words on the page are no longer new, and he’s still thousands of miles away, picking fights with his crewmates and launching shells at German ships.

The days pass slowly, but when she stops and looks back, the eight months have felt like nothing. Her life is flying past her and she hardly even notices, too caught up in the memory of those nights in September.

All for him to call her his fancy woman and feed her jokes about birds.

She knows better than to get her hopes up with Tom; she’s seen him go through every crush he’s ever had. He used to go through phases of ditching her for whichever sweetheart he was entertaining at the time, only to come crawling back to her when he’d inevitably cock it all up. Because he’s Tom Bennett, and he can’t help but make a mess of everything.

And like a good friend, she always kept her window unlocked for him, always held him when he needed it and did her best to set him straight. Because that’s what friends are supposed to do, surely, and he never said they were more.

Is that truly all she is to him? A dear friend, a listening ear and a convenient shag.

She rubs her fingers over her eyes because she will not cry over Tom Bennett. With the letter back in its envelope, she puts it into her bag and tries to find her keys, when she notices the smell of cigarette smoke. It’s hardly a rarity, but it makes her think of him.

For whatever reason, she glances over her shoulder at number 27. Low and behold, she sees a man with a cocky smile in a tight, white t-shirt, leaning in the doorway, lowering a cigarette from his mouth.

“Alright, pretty Kitty?” Tom says. “Was waiting for you to notice me–”

Suddenly she’s flying across the street and flinging her arms around his neck. She stands on her tiptoes to put her head over his shoulder and he leans into her, holding one arm over her back and one around her waist.

She closes her eyes. His breath is hot against her neck. He is here. He is real. He is more than a memory or words on a page.

Tom presses a soft kiss to her temple and she feels him smiling against her skin. “Take it you missed me then?”

She pulls away, holding back the urge to cry again, hardly able to catch her breath. This close, she can see every detail of him this close, the texture of his skin, the lines around his mouth and brows, the circles under his eyes, the scruff along the sides of his jaw, the little cleft on the tip of his nose. “Maybe a little bit,” she says.

She gives a little yelp of surprise when she feels him pulling her into the house. He closes the door behind them and then her back is against the wall, her handbag dropped by her feet.

Tom shrugs her coat from her shoulders before he surges in to kiss her, fiercely, desperately. Their bodies are tangled in one another, her hands in his hair, his tracing over the curves of her body through her dress.

And then he moves away. She tries to follow him only to realise he’s smirking.

“Missed me just a little bit?” he teases.

She wants to roll her eyes, but she just smiles. “Quite a bit.”

He drags his thumb over her lower lip, pulling it down to watch it come back into place.

Kitty huffs impatiently as she nudges her nose up into his.

Their eyes meet and the anticipation lasts a lifetime.

Tom hums as he leans in to kiss her again, slower and deeper, pressing her a little further into the wall by the firm hold on her waist.

“Missed you,” he utters between kisses, “so fucking much.”

She runs her hands over every part of him she can reach, his neck, the sharp line of his jaw, over his ears and into his hair.

“How long have you been back?” she breathes.

“Since this morning,” he says, coming to kiss her neck, the spot he knows will have her back arching against him.

“You didn’t come to the shop,” she says.

“Wanted to wait for you.”

She glances down the hallway, to the seemingly empty kitchen.

Tom huffs and pulls away from her, leaning with one hand against the wall. “Dad’s flogging his paper. Lois is out. Empty house for a few hours.”

She turns her head back to face him, pleased at the flush in his cheeks and the mess she’s made of his hair.

Tom’s eyes look down to her waist, where he presses his thumb into the fabric of her dress. “Come upstairs,” he says lowly, “I want to fuck you properly.”

She nods mindlessly, closing her hand around his as he leads her up the stairs, to a bedroom with two single beds, separated by a curtain. The room is about the same size as the boys’ bedroom in her house, but with only two beds, there’s enough space for two separate wardrobes. Her brothers make do with sharing everything.

Nothing about the room denotes Tom Bennett, not the floral wallpaper or the knitted throws on the beds. Not the books, perfume bottles and silver candelabras on the mantle, and certainly not the lingering scent of hairspray.

He leads her to the bed furthest from the door. She follows the stream of sunlight coming in from the window, and then she notices the details that are his. The ashtray and the empty beer bottle on the bedside table, the ditty bag and the pairs of boots at the foot of the bed, and the sailor’s hat left on the floor by the wardrobe.

The door closes and his footsteps tread softly behind her. His hands snake around her waist and turn her to face him.

She places her hands on his chest, running her hands over his torso, mapping his body through the soft cotton t-shirt. He feels firmer than he used to, a consequence of loading shells into guns and living off rations. She feels along his arms too, over muscles, veins, tendons and the scar below his bicep.

Tom presses a kiss to her forehead before he starts to undo the buttons on the front of her dress. A familiar restlessness rises in her belly, and suddenly she thinks she can’t bear to wait another moment. With the buttons undone, she puts her hands over Tom’s as he slides the dress down to the floor, along with her stockings and quickly slips out of her shoes.

She wastes no time unclasping her brassiere and muffles Tom’s awestruck groan by pressing her lips to his.

Somehow he manages to rid himself of his t-shirt and slacks without parting from her for too long, and he guides them both to the bed. She giggles as he lands on top of her and the metal bedframe squeaks.

“Now,” Tom says, pressing a delicate kiss to her neck. “Don’t have to worry about being quiet like we usually do, do we?”

“No…” Kitty breathes as he moves down, dragging his lips and tongue down her body. When he comes to her breasts, he cups one with his hand, and takes the other nipple in his mouth. Her head rolls back against the pillows but she brings her eyes back to him. She wants to cling to every moment, every sensation, all the movements of his tongue against her skin and his hair falling in front of his face.

“Eight fucking months,” he half growls as he moves further down, kissing along her stomach and running his hands over her hips. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

She instinctively bites her lip when he ghosts his lips over her clothed cunt.

He tuts. “Don’t hold back on me now, sweetheart. I want to hear how much you missed me,” he says, curling his fingers around the hem of her underclothes before dragging them along her legs, leaving them somewhere on the floor.

He trails teasing kisses along her thighs. She squirms and whines every time he edges closer to her centre, until finally, he drags his tongue through her folds, from her entrance, up to her pearl with a deliciously agonising pressure. She doesn’t hold back the moans that sound in her throat, curling her fists through the bedsheets.

He works over her pearl with his tongue and lips, groaning against her as he does it and squeezing his fingertips into the flesh of her thighs.

It’s been so long since she’s felt like this, even on the nights when she felt herself getting too desperate, she can never quite match the feeling.

In a way it infuriates her that he can make her feel so good, but what’s worse than that is that he knows it. She can see his smug, half smile as he mouths at her cunt, so pleased at the noises she makes and the way her hips are starting to move against him.

She curls in on herself as her peak washes over her, but he manages to hold her down, right where he wants her, and keeps going until her whole body shudders and her legs are quivering.

“Fuck,” she breathes, “Tom…”

Even then he doesn’t give her much of a reprieve. He moves back for a moment before he positions her legs over his shoulders. His tongue is against her again, only now he moves lower, teasing over her entrance.

She whines impatiently.

“Fucking greedy, aren’t you?” Tom chuckles. He licks over her again— too much and not enough. “Just take it, take what I give you.”

But it doesn’t take long for him to slip his tongue inside her while his nose nudges against her. His name is a dreamy chant on her lips now. The pleasure rises and burns until she’s sure she can’t take anymore. She threads her fingers into his hair, gripping at it, urging him on, just a little more, and she’s sure she’ll fall apart.

Then he’s gone without warning, but he soon compensates the loss by replacing his tongue with a single finger.

Tom gazes up at her through his lashes. He keeps his eyes on her face as he pushes inside of her, deeper, deeper, until she takes a sharp intake of breath when he finds her sweet spot.

“Give me another one,” he groans, lowering his head down to circle his tongue over her. “Come on, pretty Kitty.”

She follows it like a command. Her second peak is sharper than the first and has her gasping for breath as she feels herself come undone around him.

“There you go,” Tom grins as he brings her legs from his shoulders and starts to make his way up her body.

He props himself over her, one hand on either side of her head. His silver chain, usually hidden below his shirt, dangles in front of her as their eyes meet. They breathe together, chests rising and falling in perfect unison.

He hesitates for a moment, before he places a lazy kiss to her lips. “God,” he utters, “you’re so fucking gorgeous, do you know that?”

“Just keep saying it,” she says.

He takes one of her hands and guides it down to his briefs. She traces her fingers over the hem before she slides underneath and wraps them around his already hard cock.

“Fuck—” Tom hisses through his teeth, his brow furrowed and his jaw tight. He reaches for the bedside table and hands her a condom. “Do the honours for me,” he grins.

She tears it open and reaches back down to slide it along his length.

Slowly, he lets his weight fall against her as he slides inside of her, burying his face into her neck and letting out a shaky breath against her skin.

She brings her arms around his shoulders as he rocks into her, gently at first, but she can feel that it’s not enough. His breaths are getting sharper and his thrusts harsher as he whimpers into her neck.

She holds him as tightly as she can, hoping it will somehow soothe the ache in her heart, because she still feels the absence of the last eight months. Because she can already feel the time slipping away.

Tom withdraws from her neck. “Look at me,” he pleads.

She does, and he brings his forehead to hers. His nose presses into hers and their lips barely brush over each other.

“You feel so good,” he says. His expression fades into something darker and more determined as he fucks her harder and faster, “so fucking tight.”

She feels it too, the urgency to make up for the time and the distance with a carnal need.

They reach their climaxes together, moaning into each other’s mouths and keeping their bodies tight together. It never feels close enough.

Once they’ve caught their breath and they feel their desire mounting again, Tom lies back on the bed and brings her to straddle him.

While the position isn’t unfamiliar, the movements are, but she’s eager enough, gauging both of their reactions as she grinds her hips against his. She goes slowly, at first, bracing herself against him while Tom keeps hold of her waist to guide her movements.

“Nice and slow, just like that,” he whispers, gazing up at her with a slight smile, “show me how much you missed me.”

She doesn’t care how the bed creaks under them, that she’s breathing and moaning too loudly. There’s something freeing and unashamed about how they fuck. Seeing Tom’s face twisted in pleasure and hearing his needy whines as he starts to buck his hips to match her movements.

And when another climax tears through her, she wishes she could drag the moment out forever.

Tom takes her in his arms as they collapse back on the bed.

She feels like she’s dreaming, not quite awake but still aware of whose arms are cradled around her, whose heartbeat she feels against her ear, who reaches for a packet of cigarettes and flicks his lighter.

They talk about things they’ve already discussed over letters, the bloody war and all the misery that comes with it. Life in Longsight seems dull in comparison to Tom’s tales of sea battles and antics on board the Exeter. But even in the middle of the Atlantic, in the midst of a war that’s consuming the whole world, he still found time to wind everybody up. She can’t tell if she hates him or admires him for it.

There’s something different about him. Where he used to sound so cocksure and carefree, his voice is duller.

Tucked under his shoulder, she shifts her head to get a better look at him, propped up against the pillows, taking drags from his cigarette, pouting his lips as he exhales the smoke and tapping the ash into the tray. Her eyes tell her it’s the same person, the same jaw, the same nose, the same lips, the same shade of blue in his eyes.

No… he looks different in the way his face falls. He seems less smug than he used to be. He seems tired, older, colder.

Of course he’s different, how could he not be? The war has reached every corner of the world, but he’s been in the thick of it.

“Your dad must be glad to have you back,” she says quietly.

Tom’s body tenses underneath her. He brings his cigarette to his lips again, giving a little irritated huff as he exhales. She wonders if that’s a thread she should avoid tugging on, but it already seems to be unraveling. He reaches to stub the cigarette out in the ashtray.

“I didn’t want to go back,” he mutters, his expression stern and sad. “I thought I was doing the right thing by going. I’ve spent enough of my life making a mess of everything, I thought if I did something good then…” he glances down at her, then shakes his head. “But I was so fucking scared—” his voice breaks his eyes are glistening.

Kitty sits up and clenches her hand around his. He’s trembling.

“You’re alright,” she says, softly, “you’re alright.”

He breathes quickly and she can feel his heart thundering in his chest. His descriptions of the attacks on the Exeter and the aftermaths had been brief, which she thought must have been a way to protect her from it on his part. Maybe he didn’t want it in writing, maybe he didn’t want to think about it once he had lived it, to be surrounded by fire, smoke and death at every turn.

“I thought dad would help me. I told him I didn’t want to go back, I thought he could help me somehow.”

“And what did he say?”

His nostrils flare as he huffs again. “He thinks it’ll be a bad look for the movement. He doesn’t think I’m genuine.”

Kitty strokes her thumb over his knuckles and his fingers tighten around hers.

“For a moment I thought he’d be pleased,” he says, his voice thick and coarse, “just for a moment.

She breathes through the tight feeling in her chest. “Maybe if you spoke to him again—”

“No,” he says bitterly. “Made up his mind now. Sure, what does it matter either way? I’m not much use here.”

The light feeling in her limbs is starting to fade. She feels solid and heavy where her body meet the mattress.

“Your dad needs you,” Kitty says, “and Lois.”

He scoffs.

“Don’t tell me you’re upset with her too?”

Tom frowns. “Stupid fucking mistake. What does she think she’s going to do now?”

“She told you then?”

“She sent a letter.”

Lois had called in a few weeks ago to tell them the news. Mam already had her suspicions, even though Lois was barely showing. She and dad were horrified, but of course they didn’t make that clear until after she had left. “A baby on the way and no husband, for shame.”

“She knows it was stupid, but she’s not asking anyone else to deal with the consequences,” Kitty says.

“All because she wanted to mess around with some posh boy.”

Kitty swallows down the dry feeling in her throat. “I don’t think what she did was much different to me and you.”

Tom looks down at her with wide eyes. “Me and you are different,” he says.

“How so?”

His lips shift, like he might say something, but he doesn’t. “I don’t know, I thought Lois was more sensible than this.”

“She’s certainly not done herself any favours, but you won’t help by being angry at her.”

“But she’s always been the responsible one, you know?”

“That’s not fair, Tom, she’s your sister not your mother.”

Tom stares up at the ceiling with his lips parted. “No… I suppose not.”

He turns his head into her. “I should never have gone in the first place.”

There’s lots of things that she thinks she would want to change. Sometimes she wishes Tom wasn’t so reckless and impulsive. She wishes he’d find an interest that wouldn’t end him up in trouble with the police. She wishes he really was a pacifist, and that way he would be here, and the only thing separating them would be a single street and two windows. It hurts to think of what could have been.

But those things cannot be changed, and even then, he wouldn’t be him. He wouldn’t be the Tom Bennett she’s adored for as long as she’s had memories of him.

She shifts against him, hooking her arm over her chest and her leg over his hips. “I know things are hard,” she says. “Just don’t leave them on a bade note. You’ll regret it if you do.”

They don’t speak for a while. The evening drags on, the sun dips lower in the sky, voices and the shouts of children sound from the street and Kitty is content lie beside him, listening to his heartbeat and his slow, controlled breaths, while he plays with her hair.

“I love you,” he breathes, so softly she thinks it might be a voice in her head. “When we got hit, it was all I could think about. That I might die then and there, and you’d never know.”

She feels her mouth break into a smile. “You love me?”

“Oh leave off, I’ve said it now,” he says with a grin.

They dress and he leads her downstairs to the kitchen. While he fusses with the kettle, Kitty takes a seat at the table.

“You’ve not met Vera yet,” Tom says over his shoulder, nodding at the small birdcage on the table. Inside, a little, yellow canary with black, beady eyes tilts her head and chirps.

“Hello, Vera,” Kitty says.

Vera chirps back.

Tom turns back around with a single cup of tea and a plate of toast. “Have to be stingy with the butter and milk, obviously,” he says setting them in front of her.

“Oh,” she says, “no, I won’t have any, don’t waste your rations on me.”

Tom angles his brows at her. “It’s not a waste.” He takes a seat in the chair opposite and lights a cigarette. “Come on, you’ve been on your feet all day.”

She hesitates before she reaches for the milk, spilling the smallest dash she can manage into the cup and skipping the sugar. Then she takes a cut of butter no larger than her thumbnail and spreads it across the toast. She takes a few tentative bites, ushering some back to him and tearing off a few crumbs to feed to Vera. Even the most mundane parts of life have become luxuries now.

“How long are you back for?” she asks.

“A week.”

“And then?”

“Off to Dover. They’ve got some big operation planned.”

“And will you be back after that?”

He draws his tongue between his lips. “I don’t know.”

Before long, the front door unlocks and Lois’ heels click through the hallways as she comes into the kitchen. “Dad not back yet?” she says, tossing her coat over the banister. She stops at the head of the table and looks between the two of them. She’s holding a brown paper bag. “Hello, Kitty. I’ve just been in to see your mum.”

“Oh she’ll be wondering where I am,” Kitty says, glancing across to Tom.

His chin is tilted down, and he looks up at her through the smoke with pleading eyes, like an injured puppy.

“Tell ‘em the Gregorys invited you up for tea,” Lois shrugs. She reaches into the bag and pulls out tiny pieces of clothing that are vaguely familiar to Kitty. “For the baby,” she says. “Thank God your mum kept all your old stuff.”

“Make do and all that,” Kitty says, briefly catching Tom’s eye.

She downs her tea and hurries to the hallway. Tom had left her coat over a sofa in the front room, and her bag is still on the floor. She tuts at his carelessness and shouts a farewell to Lois as Tom comes to see her to the door.

“Thanks for stopping by,” he says formally, with the corners of his mouth curled.

“Of course,” she replies, peering round his shoulder to see if Lois can see them.

Tom looks round too and smiles back at her as he leans into her ear. “A pleasure, as always, pretty Kitty.” He catches her lips in a quick peck before he opens the door for her.

She hurries across the street and finds her keys in her handbag. Before she opens her own door, she looks back to number 27. The glow of the spring evening beams off the red bricks of the houses and Tom looks golden, watching her through the haze of smoke from his cigarette.

It’s like before, all those months ago, before he first went away.

Each night, Tom steals into her bedroom. They kiss as quietly as they undress each other and set themselves down on her bed.

It gets more unbearable with every day that goes by. Each hour is an hour closer to carrying on with her life without him, when he’ll become another person to wait for, another reason why she wants this war to end.

On their last night, he fucks her from behind, keeping her mouth covered and muffling his own sounds in the crook of her neck. His breath and the hold on her mouth only makes her more desperate.

If anything, that first evening has ruined her, going back to gentle lovemaking is excruciating.

She quietly pleads for “more… more…”

Tom clamps his hand tighter around her mouth. “No, no, no, be a good girl,” he whispers harshly, “just be a good girl for me, Kitty.”

Once they’re both too tired to carry on, he wraps his arms around her. He tells her he loves her, and she says it back.

Dover is closer than the Atlantic at least, but the distance is all the same. He’ll still be gone.

She watches him as he dresses and follows him to the window. Before he leaves, he kisses her, deeply and desperately, pulling her still bare body against him.

When they move away for breath she gazes into his eyes. She could never forget them, the storm of blue and grey rings around his pupil, but he already feels like a memory, something intangible, there but not quite.

He presses a kiss to her forehead and his lips linger there. “When I get my next leave, I’ll come straight to you,” he says.

She doesn’t doubt it’s a promise he’ll keep. Tom Bennett doesn’t often make promises to her, but so far, he’s never broken one.

Tags (comment to be added to either)

General taglist: @randomdragonfires @jamespotterismydaddy @theoneeyedprince @tsujifreya

Series taglist: @hanula18 @azxulaa @whoknows333

[madfantasy]

To fan art and fiction enjoyers:

Please excuse my rage slipping if it happened over having to address this literal mediocrity of a subject in comparison to endless things that actually matters in real life. Because this would be at the scrapping bottom of it, but since the occasion presented itself, here we are:

Do you know there are some, let's say, manners, being in fandoms, and/or in using social media in general? NOOO? 8U

Well, Lets start somewhere!

Like it or not, YOU NEED TO ACTUALLY READ STUFF PEOPLE WRITE. Before you follow, before you comment, before you interact, because if you come across something you don't like, or you started to assume things— that's a you problem and not the fault of the poster.

If you DO NOT enjoy a character, a pair of ship, or a certain head cannon, filter the tag it's used for, Google has free tutorials on how. Most social media have these settings and most decent posters tag their posts correctly. If you keep seeing that pair, you can block the people who create it. You are free to do so ofc but WHY WOULD U come on main and air that out? Personally I find it so bizarre and it could show the type of person you are to other people — a toxic company over fictional substance — and I'd say that is not a flex, more like showing your dirty nappy in public. Those characters you love are not real and so not effected by your high ground stance, but actual humans that share you that love notice and get that impression, and it's a weird one. You SHOULD, of course, set your boundaries, and usually where that is be in your profile, on your bio or a pinned post.

Loving bizarre, villainous, creepy concepts DOES NOT EQUAL morality, nor loving good sunshine and flowers does. It's what a person does in real life what counts, not what they consume in entertainment. In fact, it is not a sign of a good person those who be shaming humans who like different fictional concepts. Or when someone keeps using ai generators knowing full well it's based on constant data theft of all sort of human creators across generations and can not exist without the continuance of this theft. Or those supporting creators that they know did irl crimes. Or those who are Policing what's can and cannot go into fiction as if the fickleness of preference have never let alot of things survive its judgement. And I can go on with the miniature examples. You are forgiven if you did not know before, some people learn through experience, but not anymore when you continue this behaviour. And maybe if you can't differentiate between reality and fiction, and what's more important than what, maybe, just maybe, you shouldn't be consuming fiction.

DO NOT POST WHAT YOU DID NOT CREATE. Do you like it when people keep posting your selfies that you only ment to share for funsies and what not? Isn't worse if you did not post that selfie in the first place or never wanted it to be used like that? It's the SAME FOR ART. This is the artists work just as much as your face is yours. Social media at the baseline is about who ever the poster is, their posts are theirs. So you posting an artist's drawing, with no permission, no credit to them, no nothing, is not allowed and people can report that. Don't be an ignorant thick fig and play the victim when schooled like this precious dear\s .Reposters disconnect so many content from their creators and this is how alot of beautiful things in life die, by simply not knowing they are loved, shoved into the over consumption machine..

And lastly, You don't have anything nice to say to OP? Don't say anything! It's not your misguided duty to educate people on how embarrassingly self centered you are, it's okay to be a basic #&★— I promise. It okay to feel out of place in a niche that doesn't concern you. It's okay to realise other people have different perspectives of the fiction work you enjoy. You can sit down.

And I'd like to add, Mani is a safe space for au and ships even if I don't like em, cuz they are only FICTION and will remain FICTION no matter how much I loved them or hated them.

Good day, dears🍀

[nalyra-dreaming]

Honestly I just wish they actually let Loumand be a nice thing in Paris. Ofc that in Dubai and even at the 70's they would not be actually happy considering Claudia's death, but I do think in the book before her death Louis was truly in love with Armand rather than him being just a rebound. When they actually get together the relationship is immediately dead... But in the show where they get together and can have sex long before her death (instead of just pining and acting flirty) they could have kept that part more positive and... genuine?

Hmmm. I mean, I get you, but... I have said ages ago that I never saw it much as "genuine"... at least not in a way that it should have been.

Personally I found later Loumand always very healing, as said. (But, personally(!!!!!!), also a bit boring. I love them, but… writing them (i.e.) does not hold much appeal right now. But that might change with the upcoming seasons!) But the Loumand in Paris?? Hell, that’s not even real, Armand gaslights Louis into loving him, uses his spell gift and mind gift as influence, poor Louis. And it will hurt Louis, incredibly so.

Again. Armand woos Louis while torturing and locking up Lestat. Armand woos Louis while letting his coven belittle and thereby hurt Claudia. Armand woos Louis while the coven plans her death. Armand uses his mind gift to influence Louis to do things, in the book.

The show hinted at the way they would go with the posters. They always intended to go there.

Imho, we can be lucky that Armand is already so much more nuanced than he was in the first few books. Because he is no simple "villain". But Loumand in Paris ... was not genuine. Not in the sense of the word.

Sorry.

[duchezss]

My favorite details/moments from Trolls Band Together because I have a problem.

Lemme just get this out of the way and say the soundtrack is a certified banger oh my god.

When brozone tries and hits the perfect family harmony the first time the colors that they get outlined in are all separate, the three colors don't blend at all.

Just Floyd comforting Branch....😭 😭

Branch's little hops when him and Floyd were talking about the bunker WAHHHH.

The real emotions of Branch missing his brothers while simultaneously not wanting to see them like???

"There goes my back" when JD was throwing Branch LMAOO.

The entire design of Mount Rageous is so whimsical and gorgeous I'm in love.

When the whole screen shakes when JD hits the counter eh oh el.

"If there was a brother I'd do this for...I'd be Floyd" WAHHHH.

The old MTV style music video Watch Me Work has.

Floyd singing with the posters of brozone floating around 😭

"Tiny, Poppy, Branch, and this random dude" I SPIT OUT MY DRINK LMAO.

"Are you a narc?" OH I LOST IT IM SO DEAD.

All of Branch's old hairstyles being references to Justin Timberlake's real hairstyles.

"Poppy seed" awwwww.

Branch's little "yay" is so cute.

The ongoing ring pop joke is actually so funny I'm sorry.

The way Bruce and JD just throw Branch on command.

Bruce still being considered the heart throb even though he's got a dad bod, a wife, and children 😭

THE BLEEPED OUT CURSE WORD I WAS IN TEARS.

The amount of songs they fit into Brozone's back is actually impressive, and the way they mesh so well together??? Legitness.

"That's not an idea, those are shoulder pads" I just can't...

When Floyd's hair started turning white and he was going transparent....WAHHH 😭 😭 WHEN I GET YOU VELVET AND VEENER WHEN I GET YOU......(But also the details to show how fast his health was declining? Someone cooked)

Branch's iconic clue board.

Bruce holding tiny diamond since he's also a dad.

Branch trying to be brave and talk to the clown but as soon as Viva came at him he backed up. That's such a real response I love is so much??

Clay's hair being green? Which kinda hints that JD or someone made him dye his hair yellow when he was younger.

Viva calling Clay "Mr. Clay" is actually the cutest thing everrr

Clay and Bruce's handshake, I also kinda like that it implies that they were really close, kinda like how Branch and Floyd were close. I think it really separates JD from them.

Also everyone's reaction to JD being super cold while everyone fawns over Branch.

Clay's so smart 😭 (and autistic) I love him so much.

All the brothers cute dancing in It Takes Two ❤️

The very real response of Viva not wanting to talk about her trauma and also not wanting Poppy to leave.

"I don't wanna lose my brother either" I feel like no one talks about how brave Clay is. He's in the same boat as Viva, he thinks Bergens still attack trolls, and he's going out into the world for the first time in who knows how's long. Just because he wants to help save Floyd, like that's so sweet???

Floyd's dead face was way funnier than it should've been.

"I thought ghosts just floated away" the delivery on this line is unmatched.

Floyd speaking one younger brother to Veener was so 😭, especially cause you know he felt like Veener did when Brozone was still active (on a lesser degree ofc) I can't.

We don't talk enough about how fire all of the choreos are, like they got professional dancers to make these dances, AND YOU CAN TELL OML.

JD's need for perfection constantly getting in the way of the greatness they all could achieve.

Branch being the voice for all younger siblings out there who will never be respected by their families hit me. But I also think there's something to say about the JD's of the world. The older siblings they took charge because they felt they had to. All parties end up getting hurt.

Also Branch actually wanting them to be a family so sweet. It really embodies the naive hope of wanting to stay together that youngest children have, but it's not unattainable. You can still be close with your siblings into adulthood, no matter how much time has passed, and that's what this movie represents as it's core.

"I didn't think we'd both find ourselves tied up on this honeymoon" WHATTTTT.

BRANCH AND FLOYD HUGGING THROUGH THE GLASS WAHHHHHHHH. Also Floyd being the only brother to respect that's he's grown....I just love them so much 😭

The whole interaction of all the brothers reuniting while in the diamonds is so funny for no reason lol.

Viva understanding she was wrong and striving to do better for her sister >>>

BRO THE ENTIRE CLIMAX IS SO GOOD??? THE TENSION?? THE MUSIC??? IT'S JUST PERFECTION. THE SONGS CHOICES WERE SO GOOD, AND THE WAY THEY REARRANGED WATCH ME WORK TO BE SO INTENSE IS BRILLIANT. THE SONG JUST KEEPS BUILDING AND THE STAKES GET HIGHER, IT'S WAY TO GOOD.

"Actually I've got two really brave sisters" When the message of this movie is that found family and blood family are just as important as each other, and that no matter what you get to pick who your family is >>> 😭

When Clay falls hard while in the diamond, Bruce and JD immediately check on him, meanwhile he's just focused on Floyd. The older brotherism... 😭

The message of this movie also being that perfection isn't important, but rather balance, harmony, and communication are key. ❤️

The acapella opening of Better Place....just.....wow.....

Clay's adlibs eating everyone up??? Kid Cudi I was not familiar with your game hold on.....

When they hit the perfect family harmony all their colors start mixing, showing their respect for individualism and also for the group.

The way Floyd eyes light up when they're all singing is just 😭

Branch building the bunker for all of them 💔, Floyd remembering the waterslide, all of them hugging?? Just peak filmmaking idk.

"Jail it is" also apparently someone did the math and in our world the twins would get over 6 life sentences for their crimes hello???

All of the boyband references are so funny idc.

Clay being excited to get to know Branch 😭 also JD reading a book in the back that presumably Clay recommended him?? That's so cute? He's really trying y'all, they're all trying, and that just warms my heart 😭

*NSYNC making their first song in over 20 years for this movie is actually the craziest thing ever I'm obsessed. Also they all designed their little trolls which I think is so cute.

The last songs....just bangers....I can't even, I sound like a broken record, why is every song in this movie so good.

Fav adlibs speedrun (from the last two songs): Floyd little "yeah yeah", Clay's "dohhh, ohhh," one of the nsync members "show the wayyy", Bruce's "so excited", Branch's "ohh" & "ayeee"

The layering when they all sing together is too good. It sounds so gorgeous and if you listen closely you can hear each persons vocals.

Also I just need to talk about the music production and mixing for a second. This movie has three version of Better Place, all of which are unique. The main one is the NSYNC version, which is notable for it's little rap section. The Family Harmony version use's the intro/pre-chorus as the main part of the song. It also lets the song slowly built, and adds instrumentals as the song progresses. The Reunion version doesn't use the intro/pre-chorus, but rather mainly focuses on the chorus. It also uses the bridge from the main song as the post-chorus/refrain. Just a very creative use of the song tbh. Also the instrumental differences between Watch Me Work and Mount Rageous? Like it's the same song, but the way they add more classical elements and more layers to build the tension and the song as a whole?? I have no words. Perfection.

Obsessed with this movie. If you haven't seen it pls go watch it.

[training4theapocalypse]

Masterlist

training4theapocalypse on AO3

💖 = my favourites ⭐️ = reader favourites

Adrian Chase - Peacemaker DCEU

Thirsty (Adrian Chase x civilian fem!reader)

One shot ⭐️

Never Been Kissed (Adrian Chase x 11th Street Kid fem!reader)

One shot ⭐️

Tiny Stitches (Adrian Chase x civilian gn!reader)

One shot

And They Call Me Crazy (Adrian Chase x civilian fem!reader)

One shot

On Her Majesty's Supersonic Service (Adrian Chase x MI6 agent fem!reader)

Chapter 1: For Your Ears Only 

Chapter 2: Bird After Reading 

Chapter 3: The Spy Who Came out in the Cold

Chapter 4: No Time to Cry

Chapter 5: From Gotham with Love

Cormac McLaggen - Harry Potter

Finders Keepers (Cormac McLaggen x Ravenclaw fem!reader)

AN: I find JK Rowling’s views abhorrent. I know that a disclaimer doesn’t change the fact I’m writing porn about one of her characters but I do not support her in any way.

Chapter 1: Amortentia

Chapter 2: Confundo

Chapter 3: Poster Girl

Chapter 4: The Invitation

Chapter 5: Firewhisky

Chapter 6: First Name Basis

Chapter 7: Fine ⭐️💖

Chapter 8: Incendio

Chapter 9: Real 💖

Chapter 10: Electricity

Chapter 11: Blood Traitor

Chapter 12: Cold, Hard Facts

Chapter 13: Dunkirk

Chapter 14: Preparations

Chapter 15: Freedom

Chapter 16: Relax

Chapter 17: Purpose

Chapter 18: Calling

Chapter 19: Quidditch

Chapter 20: Avada Kedavra

Bonus: Finders Keepers Slytherin/Hufflepuff headcanon

A Nest of Vipers (Cormac McLaggen x Slytherin ofc)

Chapter 1: Smudge 💖

Chapter 2: Struggle

Chapter 3: Service 💖

Chapter 4: Skill

Chapter 5: Suffocate

Chapter 6: Slughorn's Party

Chapter 7: Scandal

Prince Friedrich - Bridgerton

A Royal Misunderstanding (Prince Friedrich x female reader)

One shot

Jeffrey Steinberg - Hidden Signal Evergreen, Podcast

Pushover (Jeffrey Steinberg x fem!reader)

Chapter 1: Pushover 💖

Chapter 2: Nice Guy

Yes, chef (Jeffrey Steinberg x fem!reader)

One shot

Deactivated (TW: Dark)

(Jeffrey Steinberg x fem!reader)

One shot

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[stainedglassandpigs]

Some of my head cannons for luffy

-Wavy hair but he rarely lets it get past his shoulders mostly a short shag

-Brook often styles luffy outfits

-He has freckles but not manny just a few big ones

-(I love his little running thing with Hercules beetles I think he loves them most but generally has a fascination with bugs)

-Ppl often make the mistake of thinking sending Robin out to a new island with luffy means everything will be fine but they often have to leave islands early bc of the Kaos the two get into while out together

-Has a tattoo on his back (its the one from the official art where they all have tattoos I just really like that one but I don’t really see luffy having many visible tattoos) ofc he got it after meeting law on the low luffy is a big copy cat

-He had his ears pierced (5 in total. Each side both have the standard done but one side has a singular cartilage done and the other has double) it’s a family thing so Garp, dragon, sabo, and ace all have at least their standard lobb pierced.

-He doesn’t drink much not for any real deep reason, and especially won’t drink Sake with random people, only his crew on rare occasions bc of the significance with his brothers.

-Isn’t a good cleaner but not bc he doesn’t try he’s just genuinely not good. Sanji and him spent so much time in the kitchen together eventually he was a bit above average at helping in the kitchen, everywhere else he’s horrible at

-His rooms is moderately decorate but the area in his room with the most attention is the photo wall area

-The crew hold a spa day once a month (mostly in part bc nami got so tried of the collective lack of care from certain crew mates *camera dramatically pans to zoro and luffy*) when they do nail polish luffy is always matching with someone bc he can never just pick one color

-Big big hugger, don’t even try to run it will only make the hug more intense

-Unibrow king, it naturally thins toward the center but it’s definitely there

-He may not be much of a trinket keeper cause he’s always moving so much from place to place after merry he was more strict with what came in and out of his room but if you give him something he’ll keep it for as long as possible. I know we see that with his straw hat but in other aspects to like you go to put some of his laundry away and see a pen you lent him a long time ago laying around.

-Luffy hates to be still for to long but if someone on the crew is sick you’ll usually find him near them or if they will allow it lying in bed right next to them and be really gaf bout getting sick, he just wants to be there for his friends

-Because there can be a lot of dead time out at sea Robin taught him to crochet but he only knows one pattern and that’s a fish and he refuses to learn more patterns bc the first one was so hard. Now though on particular boring days random crochet fishes will pop up around the sunny

-Someone once called chopper a pet and got flung cross the island

-He doesn't have a favorite flower but whenever the town/island ppl give them gifts after the crew helps them without fail luffy always ends up with sunflowers.

-He has sharp k-9s ( no one knows this put him and nami both have a matching gold tooth there isn’t even any big reason either they were out shopping on day and nami seen a beautiful women with a grill and convinced luffy to get one tooth done with her )

-Ussop makes his jesus sandals

-Sabo and him penpal cause Sabo wanted to be more up to date with his little brother in as many ways a possible and the den den Mushi calls weren’t cutting it . Sabo’s are nicely done and always have a cute photo of something he’s seen while luffys just always written on the back of a wanted poster of people he knows and luffys always sends him a sea shell from each island

-Luffy loves a good sweet but he also loves his friends more and chopper’s favorite food category is sweets so when they’re on island luffy always gets him the last piece of a really good sweet.

-He can sleep anywhere, once Franky found him alseep standing up and it scared ts outta him

-He has a Portuguese (Spanish if you think of him more as the live action) accent but rarely get to actually speak Portuguese so when he does he’s even more excited.

-He’s taught the crew enough to understand him and respond, Sanji on the other hand knows Spanish and argues with him all the time.

-When him and Sabo are on the phone they speak in Portuguese exclusively

-Always giving ppl the middle finger

-Sometimes he just won’t want to sleep alone and the crew will randomly wake up with him snuggled up to them, locked doors will not stop him.

-Zoro try’s to get the crew to train with him sometimes and fails but he has a trick up his sleeve for each member to get them to train. He got luffy bc he turns it into a game, only downside for zoro is he does genuinely have to come up with a prize each time for luffy

-I know the street love ace luffy and I can see it but I can also see the he gets bitches angle, I’m more of a middle man with this and that he got moves but barely cares to put them into actions and most times doesn’t

-On sight when it comes to insulting his loved one like the person barely can finish letting out the insult (or whatever) b4 luffy on they ass

-He’s bad with dates but big on birthdays, like the one number he can always remember without fail and will have a lil sum arranged

-Jimbei luffy favorite nap partner and they be going Olympic when it comes to taking long ass naps on sunny days

[sugaldean]

Emily Axford is so good. This first scene with the woolf is perfect

I knew I was right to love Big Bad Wolf

"I always say I hate pickles but I loove pickles

NO STOP"

#PONDLIFE

I love this cricket. I love it.

Theeeere we go with the Kings

That boar was awful whaou

Snow hold I'm starting to despise you. And I learned about you 15sec ago. Pib AND Gerard? Fucked up

Oooooh Toy Island let's gooo

Gerard kids in Toy Island will love you, they might have fun torturing you but they will love you

Pib ily. But. How was Tomas a great king who played by the rules? He came to you because he felt he had no skills and you tricked the kingdom to consider him as a king.

Yeah thank you Wolf

Oh Pib that's perfect "you don't play by the rules - - I think no one ever asked me if I wanted these rules"

"You're gonna hate comedy if you hate three" Ally I love it

Pinocchio the little wooden boy, ex-warlock of the disturber of the worlds (Stepmother) is about to make a sex joke at the Big Bad Wolf (deific version of death) and all of his friends are treating him like a king. Rosamund is kneeling, Pib is giving him his weapons, Timothy is Le Penseur de Rodin,Gerard is holding is action. Ofc Ylfa is laughing

Oh they are all kneeling with Le Penseur positions.

Al of them trying to not die of laughter is the best medicine in the world. Ally sneaking out, Siobhan and Emily laughing so hard, Zac and Murph trying to hold it

Brennan and Lou having to be invested otherwise this episode will never end

FIVE?? TWELVR?

Oh! Brennan you genius

The best grave is not the one you dig yourself. It's the one your friend enthusiastically dig for you after thing you up to a tree. Pinocchio can testify cause them pushing him to have a second joke is truly a betrayal.

Like. Asking your improviser friend to come up on a joke in front of a Death deity is diabolical

So in the Neverafter. They have movie theater, posters, movies and the Wolf of Wall Street. Also wolves have pockets. And wigs

MURPH. INCREDIBLE. The posture? The tone? "one day you're going to die - - I know" hilarious

Add to to-do list: watching Death fuck so I can have material for real life (death?) comic material to not die

The wolf talking about Baba Yaga is everything I've ever wished from any media. That's perfection I want to write an essay about it. Two of the biggest folklore characters. Both neutral and bad.

"she's kind of quirky"

Canon in the dimen 20 universe: Baba Yage plays the Ukulele

If you want to know you can find ukulele cover of Fast Car. Easily

[vampirevatican]

so let's talk...

they cloned tyrone (spoilers and all)

SUBLIMINAL MESSAGES

"it's in the water", "straighter is greater", "i got that ruckus", "got damn! fried chicken", "grape juice", the shot of an old american dream like poster, depicting a white man, til it pans out to the ghetto.

the movie hints to it's audience from the start that this? this shit runs deep. yeah everyone is carrying on like normal, so does the movie, and no one bats an eye until it's deliberately pointed out. for me it says a lot that i can only convey or remind folks with in the way fontaine treats junebug in the first half.

hood niggas don't wanna be hood niggas.

and that right there is exactly fontaine. not only to just the brother he lost, but extended to junebug, yo yo, charles, his momma. sure he a product of his environment but he ain't got much of a choice and that's depicted when he does everything he can to get to the bottom of what the fuck is going on up 'til he literally loses control.

EXISTENTIAL CRISIS

seeing another you. loosing complete autonomy while being conscious of it.

what slick and 'taine saw? enough to make any human question the fabric of their reality, if they're real, if their memories are really theirs, how much can they recall in those memories and if they are recalling everything. when slick saw fontaine again and when fontaine first faced his previous body. 'taine's drive was figuring out if he's really him. hell as he was grappling with the chaos that it brings in his mind, what does he say when he finally snaps out of it?

im me.

as humans our lives, decisions, etc. come from some peace of mind that we have autonomy. the fact that we can say and do as we please, even if it's within a boundary, is enough for us to feel some kind of calmness in the thought that we have power over ourselves. can't control the world around me, can't do big shit, but i can do this. the little things.

all i could think was, 'but what if there's another you.. an original you.' and when his autonomy was put into question, him backing off like that and accepting it is a form of nihilistic defeat. he can't do shit but what he's always done, and if that means he or anyone else he loves doesn't die? then it's something he deals with, until it's too much to bear.. until the cycle of everyday (that he now knows is a cycle) weighs heavy and the only thing to pull him out of it? junebug. the good memories of his brother.

THE CLONES AND TIME

i had this originally titled and future, but the point here is the original/old fontaine and his plan.

i feel that old fontaine made that deal not just because of ronnie, or the decayed blood he has to wipe up, i feel like that's part of the defeatist mindset he has. he decided the "can't beat em, join em" route was better. that assimilating to what white folks have wanted since fucking eugenics was better, even if it's not he reasons that joining is better than just dying out.

"assimilation is better than annihilation."

ofc, our fontaine, doesn't believe any of that bullshit. that the whole operation is fucked. old fontaine says that it's something they both know but i agree and disagree... they both know that's what white america wants. for old fontaine if that's enough to not have another incident like ronnie? good enough but our fontaine?? he's got junebug he's thinking about, other little kids in the here and now, the dreams that yo yo had and still has, everyone in the hood who wants out but just can't seem to get out.

CONTROL GROUPS

"tyrone... ain't that you?"

now i didn't grow up in the hood,or rather the projects, but i was near it. small knit group, everyone knows each other more or less.

the drug dealer, the pimp, the pastor, the kids, the aunties/grandmas/mamas/misses.

in the black community we all know someone like that or have heard of them, and the end of the movie shows this. it's more than just a call back and a chance to play a hit by miss badu.

these regulars? they're the control group the second in command was talking about. they're the ones that don't quite get the same treatment as the experimental group (i.e yo yo, biddy, junebug etc.) they're key players to making the ecosystem (experiment/operation) run smoothly. which is why the convo of fontaine deciding to go with slick and yo yo is integral to the ending and vice versa.

to break the cycle, the system? everyone's gotta rally together. country wide. (in movie context ofc)