#before going off like an atom bomb?
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arksmemoir · 5 months ago
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I know the old comic touched on it, but idr much of it so I wanna sit and wonder for myself what would happen in the unlikeliest of events Shadow was forced to interact with/draw from the Master Emerald.
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im-not-buying-it-ether · 4 months ago
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I hate my hangup with reading Wonder Woman comics bc I spent my formative years as a Greek myth lover and I know I'm not going to enjoy the feminist revisionism that seems to be the Greek Pantheon of DC
I want to read her stuff, but dear god I don't want how they write the gods in any story I've heard of
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heritageposts · 9 months ago
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What does life in North Korea look like outside of Pyongyang? 🇰🇵
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Hey, I'm back again with a very scary "tankie" post that asks you to think of North Koreans as people, and to consider their country not as a cartoonish dystopia, but as a nation that, like any other place on earth, has culture, traditions, and history.
Below is a collection of pictures from various cities and places in North Korea, along with a brief dive into some of the historical events that informs life in the so-called "hermit kingdom."
Warning: very long post
Kaesong, the historic city
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Beginning this post with Kaesong, one of the oldest cities in Korea. It's also one of the few major cities in the DPRK (i.e. "North Korea") that was not completely destroyed during the Korean war.
Every single city you'll see from this point on were victims of intense aerial bombardments from the U.S. and its allies, and had to be either partially or completely rebuilt after the war.
From 1951 to 1953, during what has now become known as the "forgotten war" in the West, the U.S. dropped 635,000 tons of bombs over Korea — most of it in the North, and on civilian population centers. An additional 32,000 tons of napalm was also deployed, engulfing whole cities in fire and inflicting people with horrific burns:
For such a simple thing to make, napalm had horrific human consequences. A bit of liquid fire, a sort of jellied gasoline, napalm clung to human skin on contact and melted off the flesh. Witnesses to napalm's impact described eyelids so burned they could not be shut and flesh that looked like "swollen, raw meat." - PBS
Ever wondered why North Koreans seem to hate the U.S so much? Well...
Keep in mind that only a few years prior to this, the U.S. had, as the first and only country in the world, used the atomic bomb as a weapon of war. Consider, too, the proximity between Japan and Korea — both geographically and as an "Other" in the Western imagination.
As the war dragged on, and it became clear the U.S. and its allies would not "win" in any conventional sense, the fear that the U.S. would resort to nuclear weapons again loomed large, adding another frightening dimension to the war that can probably go a long way in explaining the DPRK's later obsession with acquiring their own nuclear bomb.
But even without the use of nuclear weapons, the indiscriminate attack on civilians, particularly from U.S. saturation bombings, was still horrific:
"The number of Korean dead, injured or missing by war’s end approached three million, ten percent of the overall population. The majority of those killed were in the North, which had half of the population of the South; although the DPRK does not have official figures, possibly twelve to fifteen percent of the population was killed in the war, a figure close to or surpassing the proportion of Soviet citizens killed in World War II" - Charles K. Armstrong
On top of the loss of life, there's also the material damage. By the end of the war, the U.S. Air Force had, by its own estimations, destroyed somewhere around 85% of all buildings in the DPRK, leaving most cities in complete ruin. There are even stories of U.S. bombers dropping their loads into the ocean because they couldn't find any visible targets to bomb.
What you'll see below of Kaesong, then, provides both a rare glimpse of what life in North Korea looked like before the war, and a reminder of what was destroyed.
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Kaesong's main street, pictured below.
Due the stifling sanctions imposed on the DPRK—which has, in various forms and intensities, been in effect since the 1950s—car ownership is still low throughout the country, with most people getting around either by walking or biking, or by bus or train for longer distances.
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Kaesong, which is regarded as an educational center, is also notable for its many Koryŏ-era monuments. A group of twelve such sites were granted UNESCO world heritage status in 2013.
Included is the Hyonjongnung Royal Tomb, a 14th-century mausoleum located just outside the city of Kaesong.
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One of the statues guarding the tomb.
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Before moving on the other cities, I also wanted to showcase one more of the DPRK's historical sites: Pohyonsa, a thousand-year-old Buddhist temple complex located in the Myohyang Mountains.
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Like many of DPRK's historic sites, the temple complex suffered extensive damage during the Korean war, with the U.S. led bombings destroying over half of its 24 pre-war buildings.
The complex has since been restored and is in use today both as a residence for Buddhist monks, and as a historic site open to visitors.
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Hamhung, the second largest city in the DPRK.
A coastal city located in the South Hamgyŏng Province. It has long served as a major industrial hub in the DPRK, and has one of the largest and busiest ports in the country.
Hamhung, like most of the coastal cities in the DPRK, was hit particularly hard during the war. Through relentless aerial bombardments, the US and its allies destroyed somewhere around 80-90% percent of all buildings, roads, and other infrastructure in the city.
Now, more than seventy years later, unexploded bombs, mortars and pieces of live ammunition are still being unearthed by the thousands in the area. As recently as 2016, one of North Korea's bomb squads—there's one in every province, faced with the same cleanup task—retrieved 370 unexploded mortar rounds... from an elementary school playground.
Experts in the DPRK estimate it will probably take over a hundred years to clean up all the unexploded ordnance—and that's just in and around Hamhung.
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Hamhung's fertilizer plant, the biggest in North Korea.
When the war broke out, Hamhung was home to the largest nitrogen fertilizer plant in Asia. Since its product could be used in the creation of explosives, the existence of the plant is considered to have made Hamhung a target for U.S. aggression (though it's worth repeating that the U.S. carried out saturation bombings of most population centers in the country, irrespective of any so-called 'military value').
The plant was immediately rebuilt after the war, and—beyond its practical use—serves now as a monument of resistance to U.S. imperialism, and as a functional and symbolic site of self-reliance.
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Chongjin, the third largest city in the DPRK.
Another coastal city and industrial hub. It underwent a massive development prior to the Korean war, housing around 300,000 people by the time the war broke out.
By 1953, the U.S. had destroyed most of Chongjin's industry, bombed its harbors, and killed one third of the population.
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Wonsan, a rebuilt seaside city.
The city of Wonsan is a vital link between the DPRK's east and west coasts, and acts today as both a popular holiday destination for North Koreans, and as a central location for the country's growing tourism industry.
Considered a strategically important location during the war, Wonsan is notable for having endured one of the longest naval blockades in modern history, lasting a total of 861 days.
By the end of the war, the U.S. estimated that they had destroyed around 80% of the city.
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Masikryong Ski Resort, located close to Wonsan. It opened to the public in 2014 and is the first, I believe, that was built with foreign tourists in mind.
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Sariwon, another rebuilt city
One of the worst hit cities during the Korean War, with an estimated destruction level of 95%.
I've written about its Wikipedia page here before, which used to mockingly describe its 'folk customs street'—a project built to preserve old Korean traditions and customs—as an "inaccurate romanticized recreation of an ancient Korean street."
No mention, of course, of the destruction caused by the US-led aerial bombings, or any historical context at all that could possibly even hint at why the preservation of old traditions might be particularly important for the city.
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Life outside of the towns and cities
In the rural parts of the DPRK, life primarily revolves around agriculture. As the sanctions they're under make it difficult to acquire fuel, farming in the DPRK relies heavily on manual labour, which again, to avoid food shortages, requires that a large portion of the labour force resides in the countryside.
Unlike what many may think, the reliance on manual labour in farming is a relatively "new" development. Up until the crisis of the 1990s, the DPRK was a highly industrialized nation, with a modernized agricultural system and a high urbanization rate. But, as the access to cheap fuel from the USSR and China disappeared, and the sanctions placed upon them by Western nations heavily restricted their ability to import fuel from other sources, having a fuel-dependent agricultural industry became a recipe for disaster, and required an immediate and brutal restructuring.
For a more detailed breakdown of what lead to the crisis in the 90s, and how it reshaped the DPRKs approach to agriculture, check out this article by Zhun Xu.
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Some typical newly built rural housing, surrounded by farmland.
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Tumblr only allows 20 pictures per post, but if you want to see more pictures of life outside Pyongyang, check out this imgur album.
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radiant-reid · 8 months ago
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24 Hours
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request: a blurb where he actually gets mad at JJ when she confesses to love him but doesn't really say anything at the moment. But then when he introduces reader to the team as his girlfriend, JJ is being kinda rude to her. She tries to tell him she doesn't like her, that she's not good for him. And spencer gets mad and protective👀 maybe he even throws a "i'm going to marry her, whether you like it or not".
a/n: my return piece !!
Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader (Fluff)
Word Count: 2.2k
Spencer sees red when he walks out of the jewelry store after shooting the unsub.
JJ is the first girl he has ever asked out, someone he pined over for years after her subtle rejection at the Redskins game. He understood her reasoning. It would have been impractical for them to add relationship highs and lows to everything the BAU has been through over fourteen years, and that's if they stayed together. If they hadn't, things would have been even more complicated.
Also she just generally didn't like him that way. Or so he thought.
It didn't mean she wasn't his ideal for many years. His first love, who had so many traits he didn't have that he desperately wanted.
His confirmation he would be unlucky in love came after that with Maeve, who he once again thought could be the one for him. And then he realized that maybe the person for him had been taken away from him.
Then he met Y/n, and it all seemed worth it. All those terrible nights of crying and feeling like he would forever be alone, all the times he was the only single one on the team, knowing everyone was going home to someone they loved unconditionally and relied on for support.
She's the sun and the moon, and he fell in love so fast he couldn't stop it. Luckily, she did too.
Until JJ fucked it up.
The truth she had to tell to get them out alive dropped an atomic bomb on his newly formed life plans.
Spencer doesn't speak to her that night as they finish their recounts and reports. She leaves it out, though, he discovers, opting to write the secret about her miscarriage instead of confessing her love for her best friend and the godfather of her kids.
It messes with his head the whole way home. He can't sleep on the jet, even if he wanted to as he tried to work out what he was feeling.
All JJ does is send him pleading looks, and all he does is get angry because how dare she do this now? After she had fifteen years of them working together, all those chances to tell him how she felt.
He would have married and had a family with her, the family he always wanted. It's always stayed in the back of his head for so long, and just as he sees someone else in that role in his dreams, she drudges all of it back up.
It's such a long flight, and he taps his foot the whole way while staring out the window, not even able to read.
He goes to Y/n's. He's not sure what he's going to say, how much of it he's going to tell her, but he needs to see her to cool off the fury boiling out of him.
"Hey, handsome." She calls out when he walks in the door as cheerful as ever.
He feels a pit of guilt sink into his stomach because he can't tell her without ruining everything they delicately have put together. Maybe it's wrong to lie by omission, but his brain keeps coming back to fault. And it's JJ's fault. She's the one who's jeopardizing everything.
"Hi, gorgeous." He replies, walking into the living room to find her laying on the couch, book in her hands and her head on the armrest. He's reminded how accurate the petname he calls her by is when he's taken off guard by her breathless beauty. "How are you liking it?" He asks.
"It's good." She answers, putting the book down. "But that's because it's very you."
She gets up, meeting him behind the couch to cup his jaw, stroking over his skin and staring into his eyes for a moment before kissing him properly.
He relaxes into it, the tension in his shoulders easing and his brain slowing down for a moment. It's heavenly, as always, and it's what being loved is meant to feel like.
"How was your case?" She asks when she pulls back, still not daring to move too far away from him.
He tenses instantly at that, totally readable behavior, but he's got to perfect excuse to play it off. "It was rough." He holds out his bandaged hand that he's been avoiding showing her. "I got hurt."
"Shit." She straightens up, noticing how big it looked. "What happened?"
"Cut it on glass." He answers, not going as far as to say where he was when it occurred. "I'm fine, though. Promise."
She nods, reassured. "We've got to be up in, like, six hours, you know?" She reminds him of the time.
With the amount of coffee and adrenaline in his system, he barely registered it was already past 2 in the morning. Usually, they would have stayed in LA for the night, but being home in time for Rossi's wedding trumped a good night of sleep for everyone.
"Can I sleep here?" He wonders, awkwardly looking down at his feet.
"Duh. I'm not going to kick you out and make you come pick me up so we can go tomorrow morning." She jokes. "Picked up your suit, too. You're going to look very handsome."
Spencer grins because she seriously can't get more perfect. She still feels so unattainable, but he'd do anything to make sure he doesn't lose her.
He really should tell her, but he can't. Not right now.
Y/n snaps him out of it. "Bedtime now?"
"Please." He agrees gratefully, keeping his arms wrapped around her while they walk to her bedroom.
He keeps her close while they go through the motions of getting ready for bed. Spencer quickly sheds his suit and both of them brush their teeth.
His head is on the pillow for only a few seconds before he's asleep, and she follows soon after.
The alarm going off isn't as much of a problem when Spencer is lying in bed next to her, arm wrapped around her waist. It's one of the things she misses a lot when he's away.
"Hi, beautiful," Spencer whispers, a husky voice as always. He's glad he fell asleep quickly, not having wanted to sit up thinking about the stupid things JJ has said. He just couldn't understand why it was coming up now. Sleep provided absolutely no clarity.
She grins at him. "Hi."
"Are you ready for today?" He asks softly.
"A little nervous," Y/n admits. The BAU is his family after all. His mom is there but the BAU has been where he's spent most of his life for the last 15 years.
"They'll love you." Because I love you. Spencer assures her.
She smiles softly, feeling a little better. "Let's get up then."
Spencer agrees, not before planting a few kisses on her lips and hugging her tightly.
They get ready side by side, feeling a great sense of domesticity. She's never gotten close to someone as quickly as she has with Spencer. Somehow, it's not scary that it's happened this way.
"Wow, you're very gorgeous," Spencer tells her as she touches up the final strand of her hair, adding enough hairspray that it won't fall out. He stands in the doorway of the bathroom, admiring her. "Wow."
"Thank you." Y/n spins around to look at him in his deep maroon suit. It matches her dress color which she agrees looks very nice on her. "And you're very handsome."
"Ready? The car is coming soon." He says.
She nods, fixing her bracelet. "Let's do it."
There are still some nerves as the car takes them to the venue. Spencer does a good job of assuring her it'll be okay, his hand like a magnet to her thigh. He seems slightly off like there's something out of place, but she shrugs it off. She hopes he's being cute and afraid his friends still say something embarrassing.
The venue and interior are exquisite as they make their way in. She takes a deep breath before they come across the man of the day, welcoming everyone at the entrance. She has no doubt that the value of the artwork in this room totals her apartment and everything in it.
"Spencer." Rossi, supposably, greets him in a tight hug.
"This is my girlfriend, Y/n." Spencer introduces them.
As she expects, and as she was warned about by Spencer, Rossi pulls her in for a hug, immediately calming her nerves with his warm greeting. "It's so nice to meet you. This one won't stop talking about you." Rossi jokes, nodding at an increasingly reddening Spencer.
"It's nice to meet you too." She smiles. "Thank you for inviting me."
Rossi nods. "Of course, it's a pleasure."
And then the rest of the introductions begin. Everyone's so kind, like she expected. She's seen photos and heard stories but everyone seems to have more personality than he conveyed. She's quickly fast friends with Penelope and Tara who do their absolute best to make sure Y/n's feeling comfortable.
It's how she ends up being dragged onto the dance floor after the ceremony. Once the alcohol starts flowing, there's no more anxiousness left and some extroverted spirit has been brought out.
Spencer's not one to dance, but he's one to admire. Only Y/n, though. She looks angelic, despite the old-style dance moves.
He's so wrapped up in watching her that he doesn't register JJ's heels on the ground as she approaches him. It's only when she sits next to him that his head turns around to face her.
He waits for her to speak first. Hopefully, provide some explanation.
"Spencer." She says his name softly, almost like how he used to imagine she'd say it if they were together. Much to his surprise, she doesn't go into any detail about the bomb she'd dropped less than 24 hours ago. "I'm worried about you."
He doesn't hide his scoff. "Worried about me?" He repeats.
She goes for another tactic, trying not to get him mad. "You don't think you're rushing into this?"
"Rushing into what, Jennifer?" He spits back, snapping to anger. Using her first name drives the point home, almost unnecessarily when he sounds so angered.
"You know what I mean." She continues. "You've only been talking about her for a few weeks and now she's here."
He can't fathom that she'd suggest he's rushing into a relationship. He's been careful and deliberate, but Y/n's safe, and she's proved it time and time again.
"She's been part of my life for 6 months." Spencer fact-checks her. "And you said I seemed happier since I met her."
JJ stalls, regrouping before trying another angle. "She's just not what I expected. Is she really the type you should be with?"
"What does that mean?" Spencer states, more furious than ever. There's a chance he will fully snap at her and he wouldn't be sorry.
"I feel like you should be with someone extroverted." She suggests. "You know, someone to get you out of your shell."
Spencer needs a deep breath. "You're not being a good friend right now." He tells her much more calmly. There's not one thing he doesn't love about Y/n, whether she's more on the extroverted or introverted side."I'm going to marry her, whether you like it or not." It's not even what he expected to come out of his mouth.
"Spence-" JJ tries again to reason with him.
"No, don't you dare," Spencer says firmly. "You flew back and forth from New Orleans so many times to see Will, without telling us once and we were all accepting of your relationship. If you don't like my relationship, I don't care. But it's not too soon for me to know. We can talk about what you told me later, but for now, I'm going to dance with my girlfriend." Without another word, he gets up and walks off, leaving her a little gobsmacked.
Y/n frowns at him as he approaches the dance floor. "Are you okay?" She checks.
"More than okay," Spencer tells her with a soft smile.
"Dance with me then." She says, mirroring her smile and holding out her hand.
"I'd love to." He takes her hand just as a slow song comes on for them to sway together.
JJ gets ignored by him for the rest of the night, something unnoticed by Y/n but purposeful by Spencer. But it's fun. So much fun. And he's sure he wouldn't be having as much fun had Y/n not been there. She truly makes his day.
They're in the car later that night, parked near her apartment, ice cream eaten on the trip home. "I'm in love with you," Spencer admits when her laughter falls off after he tells a joke.
It's not a word they've said before.
Her expression is of pure shock, but joy quickly creeps in. "I'm in love with you too." She tells him, grinning.
And it's an entirely better confession than the one he heard 24 hours ago.
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celepeace · 1 year ago
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Why is every alarm clock like "I need to be as LOUD and ABRUPT as possible!! Even on my quietest setting!!!!" even phone alarms don't get quiet enough and always start so damn suddenly. My hatred for loud, sudden noises does not stop because I'm asleep. I need an alarm clock that treats me like a delicate endangered baby bird
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heavenbarnes · 10 months ago
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dear god please I’m begging you on my hands and knees for more ghost soap reader action, you do it so right. I’m feral
“you do it so right” is a crazy compliment you’re going to make me AHHH 🫶🏼 (this is afab!reader btw just no pronouns)
simon knows his friend has a crush on you, didn’t have to be a fuckin’ psychic to work that one out.
it was written all over his fucking face from the moment he met you, still there when you wrapped your lips around the head of his cock.
“oh L.T, that’s fuckin’ nice”
you ignored the fact that, whilst you were the one with johnny’s cock in your throat, it was your boyfriend he’d chosen to speak to. you ignored it because you knew if you thought about it too long, you wouldn’t be lasting.
simon was practicing his patience on the other end of the couch, large hands gripping his thighs so he wouldn’t rip you off your knees and place you straight in his lap.
he was practicing generosity.
johnny had been whinging his ear off about how long it’d been since he’d had a good shag and he’d got a little too bold talking about how good L.T must have it at home.
“bet ye’ open the door and yer’ one s’already fuckin’ kneeling”
“that the first thing ye’ do when you get home? empty a couple loads?”
“gaggin’ for it with you, L.T- i bet”
simon had had enough, mainly because johnny was absolutely correct and he needed to go home and deal with it- but also because it was doing his head in.
the man had enough dirty thoughts about you to power the fuckin’ atom bomb and simon thought it might be worth putting it to work. there was gains to be made on multiple fronts.
johnny had one arm along the back of the couch and the other was at your face, fingers softly stroking your cheek as you made the most deplorable sounds.
somehow, you could make choking on cock a bit cute.
it wasn’t lost on simon the way your back was arching as you forced more of his friend into your mouth, your ass shaking a little bit as you stuck it out.
an invitation.
simon was practicing generosity but that didn’t mean he had to practice total altruism. there were gains to be made on all fronts.
so whilst you were knelt with your palms flat on johnny’s thighs, his hands coaxing your head in a rhythm, simon was on his knees behind you with your trousers around your knees.
two thick fingers took one long drag up your slit, prodding at your entrance and making you jolt forward. the sudden motion had you gagging on johnny, his head tipping back with a thick moan ripping out of him.
part of being so quiet meant simon would never say it, but maybe if you asked him at just the right moment he could tell you that, to him? he had the best view in the house.
best view in the fucking world.
johnny looked the picture of ruin as your spit dribbled down the side of his cock, matting his trimmed pubes to his skin. you were rolling your hips back into simon’s hand, reaching back to spread yourself a little for him.
“patience,” strong hand cracking down on your ass cheek. “you’ll get what you deserve”
your mouth was full but johnny could’ve sworn he heard you mumble “yes, si” around him at the order (it very well could’ve been “yes, sir” he was undecided)
when he didn’t think his evening could possibly get better, johnny felt a moan leave your chest and absolutely choke him up. his eyes flew open and he was met with a sight.
your eyes, squeezed shut and spit fucking flying out the corners of your mouth. simon- L.T on his fucking knees with his mouth buried in your cunt.
he thought he might die.
all the blood that wasn’t currently keeping johnny hard went straight to that spot and soon his head was spinning, resorting to closing his own eyes so he’d be able to make it through the night.
simon ate your pussy like a man possessed, two hands spreading your cheeks and tongue forcing its way into your entrance. pulling back only to spit on your clit before he dove back in.
giving it enough time and focusing on the sweet motions of your mouth, johnny figured it safe to reopen his eyes and take a another glimpse.
fucking silly move.
knelt before him was his L.T handling the biggest cock johnny thinks he’s ever seen this side of the internet, and he’s bullying it inside of your tight cunt.
johnny swears he didn’t mean to moan, it just slipped out the minute simon started to speak.
“hold tight, johnny- this one’s about to sing”
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aangelinakii · 7 days ago
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BATBOYS + SHARING A BED.
characters written about in this piece : bruce wayne, dick grayson, jason todd, tim drake, duke thomas
note : not smut and also didn't write damian again sorry 😭😭😭 i will get to pookie soon
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BRUCE WAYNE
as expected for such an extravagant man, bruce literally sleeps perfectly. he's like a marble statue, a renaissance painting you'd find etched into the ceiling of a cathedral. his bed's never too hor nor cold; maybe it's worth investing in his bedsheets. he likes to keep you close but also have his own space, so he isn't one to roll over and invade your side of the bed, or necessarily like it when you do while he's trying to sleep. i think he'd opt for falling asleep with an arm around your shoulders or over your waist, but with a little bit of space between. in the mornings or just before going to bed he would Not mind the barriers being crossed for some cuddling
DICK GRAYSON
for dick it's a tricky one, very much season dependent. he's such a hugger that it can be suffocating sometimes, especially in the summer. he runs cold, so in the winter huddling so close is ideal to warm him up, but his cuddly habits don't bode well with summer months, where you're so sweaty your hair is literally sticking to the back of your neck. he probably needs to fall asleep with his arms around something, and, well, the closest thing is you, so you're in for it you are. depends on if you run hot or cold at night, but his chronic cuddling syndrome could be an issue. the point is, dick loves falling asleep in your arms or with you in his, as he secretly hopes you'll meet again in his dreams
JASON TODD
differently, runs hot, so cuddling in the summer is almost out of the question unless the ac is on (but don't forget to keep it on a timer so you don't get sick !!!!) in the winter he's more open to it, as long as you're hogging the duvet. i think he's a cuddle before bed kinda guy, but likes some distance while he sleeps so he doesn't overheat and sleeps through the night. can be a bad sleeper at times, so will wake up during the night especially if having nightmares or just too hot — this can sometimes wake you up, so it depends on if a) you're a deep sleeper, b) you can get back to sleep soon enough, or c) if you stay up with him :) at those times he does appreciate you staying up with him, helping calm him down so there's the chance he'll fall back asleep, but doesn't take away from the fact he'll feel a little guilty
TIM DRAKE
i can see tim being either the deepest sleeper even an atomic bomb won't wake him, or the lightest sleeper that has him waking up every 30 mins because a piece of fluff from the blanket keeps landing on his forehead. probably depends on his stress and fatigue level; if he's super wrapped up in a case or there's a lot going on in his vigilante life, i think he'd struggle to get to sleep or to stay asleep, in which he'd appreciate you accommodating his needs with some small talk before bed, where the only light is from the moon spilling past the curtains, and maybe a warm cup of chamomile and honey. however, if he's been worked to the bone the past week, as soon as his head hits the pillow he is Gone, and then is Gone until 10AM the next day, no matter what time he fell asleep at. definitely one of those moments where you leave the room for a milisecond being like i'll be right back, and then you come back and he's out. it does help though that he's the type to reach out for you during the night, so you wake up arms tangled :((
DUKE THOMAS
duke's really sweet,, i think he'd be the type to need to fall asleep on his own or in his own space, but then during the night he shuffles closer to you, or instinctively pulls you into his side. and then he wakes up in the morning teasing you with "ugh you couldn't even get enough of me while we were sleeping" but you know very well it wasn't You who put him there, pushing you against the wall or almost off the edge of the bed (but he will deny it all he can if you say it was him). but in the mornings he's def a cuddler. he's got his day shift to go and get ready for, but he really really just wants to stay here where it's warm and ureghhh.
he also has the yellow bumblebee pillow pet and pink fuzzy bunny slippers
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lazycats-stuff · 1 year ago
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U know those adorable videos where big brothers are the most gentle and just keep picking up and kissing their baby sibling no matter if the baby was sleeping or not? I imagine babybatbro (triple B lol) will be napping next to Bruce in bed and then which ever batbro will come in and steal the baby with no explanation hehe, I'd like to see something like that with all 4 batbros please
Awww... My heart, my cold heart is melting slowly but surely... So much fluff...
Summary: (Y/N) loves to nap, but everyone keeps picking him up.
Warnings: fluff, so much fluff, minor cursing,
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Babies are wonderful little creatures. So cute, adorable, extremely cuddly, kind of defenseless, but one hell of a boost for serotonin. Babies were also a source of anxiety. Whenever (Y/N) cried, one of the boys or Bruce or Alfred would check on him and would gently shush him and try to figure out what was wrong with their little brother, son or grandson.
Usually it was easy, but sometimes it was a little bit more complex. No one ever said that raising a child is an easy feat. It's incredibly difficult, but also fulfilling at the same time. You get some incredible memories on the way and a nice cuddle bug who to a certain degree has a calming effect on you.
Of course, while the baby is calm and sleeping.
Speaking of sleeping, (Y/N) loved to nap. Whenever he could nap, he would. Public, home... It does not matter where they were, (Y/N) would nap. Even when the press was around and was loud, if it was nap time, (Y/N) was out cold. It was funny to see it and nothing but hunger or a soiled diaper would wake him up.
More importantly, the little bat or little shit if you ask Jason, loved to sleep next to someone in bed. And considering the fact that every member of the family needed a nap, (Y/N) was a perfect person to nap with. Some said that (Y/N) was like a cat. You know, eat on time, sleep on time...
Almost like a little kitten almost.
And when (Y/N) was asleep and cuddling with someone, those who weren't napping would take the little baby. At this point, they only used nicknames like little bat or kitten.
Now, back to the napping situation.
Whenever (Y/N) was napping with someone, the others would just take the little baby into their own arms and slowly move away from the original napping person. Yes, it may sound confusing.
For example, if (Y/N) and Bruce were napping, Jason would come in, sneakily take (Y/N) into his arms, gently of course.
The first time anything like that happened, Bruce was napping with (Y/N), in Bruce's room. It was quiet and Jason wanted to see his little brother. So what does on do to go get his little brother? He sneaks into Bruce's room and ever so quietly takes the napping baby into his arms and slowly sneaks out of the room to go to his own room.
When Bruce woke up he looked for his son. He found him with Jason after 10 minutes of searching. Jason simply waved at him while (Y/N) was slowly waking up in his arms. Bruce just sighed and left to get some coffee.
Jason chuckled quietly and cuddled his baby brother who was waking up, slowly cooing and squirming in Jason's arms and Jason nearly puked from the atomic bomb that (Y/N) has dropped at the moment in his diaper.
" Oh you cheeky little- " Jason cut himself off with a gag before going to (Y/N)'s room to change the diaper and not die from the smell. He gagged as he undid the diaper and threw it in the trash. He is weak. He is Red Hood, but he is weak. However, this could be considered as a bio weapon.
Jason cleaned (Y/N) up, who was wiggling his legs and giggling. Jason smiled and then put on a clean onesie and then took him into his arms.
The second time that taking a napping little baby happened was when Jason was napping with (Y/N). He was sleeping in his room, his brother in his arms. And who dares to disturb them? Damian. He wanted to spend time with his little brother.
So what does Damian do?
After a second of planning he sneaks in and ever so gently takes his little baby brother into his arms, shushing him gently in Arabic when he started fussing. Then, Damian, slowly made his way to his room, gently humming to him to keep him quiet.
Once in his room, Damian started cooing to (Y/N) in Arabic. Yes, Damian has said to Bruce that (Y/N) should know Arabic. It's a language worth knowing, what can he say?
Once Jason woke up, he was pissed. Whoever took (Y/N) was a bastard. He grumbled as he started looking for his baby brother. He glared when he entered Damian's room. And more so when he saw Damian smirking, in the condescending way.
" You are weak Todd. What if I was a burglar? "
Damian was lucky that (Y/N) was in his arms.
Third time when it happened was when Tim took (Y/N) from Dick. Dick was sleeping on the couch, which was outstretched so it could accommodate Dick and (Y/N). It was a nice, rainy afternoon, perfect for a little nap with a little, warm and cuddly baby.
So that's what Dick did.
He took his little brother into his arms, laid him on a couch, covered him with a blanket and closed his eyes. He put his arm over his brother and fell asleep quickly. It was nice to fall asleep with his little brother and the sound of rain falling.
Well, it was nice until Tim popped into the living room.
Tim also wanted to have his brother in his arms. Everyone hogs the poor baby and Tim needs to make sure that he has his time with the baby too. Tim ever so gently picked his little brother up and left to his room. But not before leaving Dick a note saying where (Y/N) is.
When Dick woke up, confused as to where his baby brother is. Safe to say, he wasn't a happy camper when he saw what has happened. More so at the note. He just grumbled and went back to napping.
And the fourth time when (Y/N) was 'kidnapped' was when Dick took (Y/N) from Tim. The two fell asleep while they were watching a movie. And Dick, very gently took his brother into his arms, happy to have his brother back.
And once of the best things about (Y/N)?
He could sleep through anything as he was a heavy sleeper. He rarely ever made a sound while he was sleeping. So Dick took his brother back into his arms and simply left. And without a note even. Dick laughed in his room afterwards, happy to take his revenge.
This was all some revenge, but not a vicious cycle by any means. It was nice, fluffy, harmless revenge. (Y/N) was happy to be cuddled and held, especially during napping. And if it was a competition between the brothers...
Oh well.
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logans-whore · 14 days ago
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Hi~
I was reading your old man logan one-shot and mwah chief kiss
Can I ask for some more old man logan and young reader?maybe he's unsure of whether he should give into his desire or keep pushing her away but when he saw her laughing at her phone or talking to a boy friend of hers he loses it?
Or anything like that love yaa
I swear I'm working on my other requests, but holy hell, this caught hold of my brain like a dog with a chew toy and it didnt let go. This can be read as a prequel to this fic, but can be read as a standalone too! Also this turned out way fluffier than I thought it would, but oh well. I hope you like it!!!
https://www.tumblr.com/logans-whore/773031900713451520/may-i-please-ask-you-to-write-something-for-old?source=share
Logan is fully aware that he's too old for you. He's too aware, if you're the one being asked.
The two of you were the only ones to survive the Westchester incident, him because of his healing, you because you hadn't been at the mansion on the day of the incident.
So you, him, and Charles move in together, hiding away. Later, Caliban joins you.
Now, you've had a thing for him for years. But seeing him there, caring for you, for Charles, being protective, and providing? Yeah, that scratches the lizard part of your brain just right.
And he notices, sees the way you look at him like he's the only thing you'll ever want. And he turns you down, over and over again, keeping you away. He's way too old for you, and starting to look it too. You deserve someone young. Someone good, and kind, and caring and perfect, like you.
And you're not the kind of girl to push it. To force a relationship with someone who doesn't want you. (Or so you think. He wants you. Very much. He's just an idiot)
So you put yourself out there. You've been working as a waitress to help pay the bills. And a customer gives you his number, and he's sweet and funny and cute, and you say yes. Thinking this is your chance to get over Logan, to move on, find someone new to love. You start texting him, and he seems great. You really like him, and you think, with time, with patience, maybe you could grow to love him. Not the all encompassing, full body experience that loving Logan is, but maybe a simpler, less painful love.
Logan on the other hand, sees you texting. All the damn time. After several pointed remarks on phones, and how young people should get off them and have a conversation, he finally asks who you're texting.
When you tell him about Adam, the cute guy from the diner, his heart drops. He's grown to love you, to love your kindness, your compassion, the way you look at him, how absolutely fucking stunning you are. And thinking about you with anyone else? Hell no. You're his. Not that you belong to him, but you're his, and he's yours, the way only people in love are each others.
And he can't lose you, he realizes with startling clarity. He just can't.
So the next morning, as you make breakfast, about to start your shift, he slinks iinto the kitchen, looks you dead in the eyes and says. "I love you."
You nearly drop the spatula you're using, choking on your own spit. "W-what?" you sputter, surprised and confused.
"I love you" he says again. You look at him for any sign of him joking, of him playing some fucked up prank. You find none.
"I'm sorry I didn't say it before", he continues, like he hasn't just dropped the emotional equivalent of an atomic bomb on you. "I'm sorry. But I love you, honey. And I don't want to see you with anyone else but me. I know-" he hesitates, but continues. "I know I said I'm too old for you. Know I said you should find someone your own age. But I'm taking it back. And I'm asking you, not to fall in love with him. I want you in love with me."
You stare at him, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. "You- you're serious?"
"I just gave you the cheesiest goddamn speech I've ever given in my life, of course I'm fuckin' serious" He grumbles, and you can't help but laugh, before crossing the distance to stand in front of him and kissing him stupid
"I love you too," You murmur against his mouth, and feel him beam against you, smiling into the kiss. "I'm not gonna fall for him. I'm already in too deep with you"
Hours later, when he's fucking you into the mattress, you cry his name over and over again, and he knows, warm and safe in your arms, in your heart, that you mean it. That you're his, and he's yours.
Logan is full aware that he's too old for you. He loves you anyways.
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10zitten10 · 2 years ago
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Do you like to use the Mushroom Cloud as a fun Barbieheimer meme? If you do, it's fine so long as you know what the cloud caused and what it symbolizes. If you don't know the circumstances of the mushroom cloud, please search ''Hiroshima Nagasaki atomic bomb people (with your safe search off)' on Google Images. *The images are very disturbing. Please DO NOT try it if you are sensitive to extremely disturbing images.
I'm Japanese. In Japan, unfortunately, many people have never seen the old pictures of the real effects of the mushroom cloud. We learn about the atomic bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki (both are cities in Japan) in primary school or junior high, when we are about 10-14 years old. Many adults think it's too risky to show children the pictures because it shows human bodies, which look like human charcoal. Living people got severe burns on their faces, their backs, and their whole bodies looked like melting wax (additionally, most of the people in the pictures are citizens, not soldiers. There are many kids, babies, and old people, of course.) Even though it happened in our land, many people (including me, I'm ashamed to say though) don't feel it was an actual event because it seems very unreal and it happened almost 80 years ago. Fortunately, I had a chance to learn about the atomic bombing and see several pictures of it. Now I know what happened in 1945. I think some people here/outside of Japan realize it as well.
I don't blame people born outside of Japan who have never known/learned about the effects of the atomic bombing. I want to ask you to learn and understand what happened under that iconic mushroom cloud before you make a meme with it. If you think 'So what?' after that, I will have nothing more to say to you.
I've not seen Barbie or Oppenheimer because they are not released here yet. But I feel they are both very interesting. I'm looking forward to watching them. I wish I could have fun watching them without any distractions before going to the theatres.
Don't get me wrong. I know that during World War II the Japanese government did tons of terrible things to people outside and inside of Japan. I just want people to know that atomic bombing is a very serious issue, and using the images of the mushroom cloud as a meme/design is like using a symbol of the Nazi/KKK as a fun meme. It's not fun. Atomic bombing should never happen anywhere in the world.
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moonlitdesertdreams · 9 months ago
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Skip the small talk
Request: None A/N: Again, I just want to thank everyone for supporting my stories and liking/commenting/reblogging/etc. It means the world to have such great reception to these one-shots. So please, enjoy this lil' story about the reader being a badass :) Tags: Fallout, Cooper Howard, Cooper Howard x F!Reader, Cooper Howard x You, Ghoul x Reader WARNINGS: Canon-Typical language and violence, drug use, decapitation Summary: You really weren't looking for trouble. All you wanted was something to eat, but of course things go awry. This is the Wasteland, after all.
Word Count: 2.6k+
(Gif Credit to @acecroft)
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Thunder booms across the Wasteland, combining with the sound of heavy rain on metal rooftops. 
It continues in tandem with its partner Lighting, who illuminates the hazy green poison that hangs low in the air tonight. The storm has been raging for hours, and doesn’t seem to be on the verge of letting up anytime soon. 
After hours of tossing and listening to the howl of the storm, you decide to give up on sleep for the moment. The inn room you’d acquired is small but cozy, lit only by a couple candles that burn bright orange on the side table. You untangle yourself from Cooper where he lies half-naked beside you, scarred skin on display while in the security of your arms. As per usual, he crankily grumbles curses at you for causing a disturbance, but there’s no malice behind the words. His eyes blink open and lock on to you, immediately more alert at the prospect of you venturing away. 
“What’re y’doin’?” His question is thick with sleep, forced through the haze by this codependency you’ve developed on each other. 
You’re sitting on the edge of the bed, and reach a hand back to brush his arm gently. “Thunder’s keeping me up. I’m gonna go see if the saloon downstairs has anything in the way of food.”
Cooper opens his mouth to respond, but a cough cuts him off. You pluck his inhaler from the nightstand and press it into his waiting hand. The cough wasn’t unusual, but you’d been traveling for days on end in search of a bounty and knew Cooper was putting on a facade of toughness. Everyone needed rest, and The Ghoul just didn’t know when to admit it. 
“Go back to sleep.” You murmur, “I’ll only be a minute.”
He relents, but points a finger in your direction. “Fine. But they got anythin’ good, you bring me some back too, huh?”
You snatch the hand out of the air and press a kiss to his palm. “Yeah, yeah. Go to sleep.”
And since the Wasteland’s most fearsome bounty hunter would rather live through ten more atomic bombs than not have the last word, he scoffs. 
“Bossy fuckin’ woman.”
You giggle at Cooper’s tough love as you tug thick tights and a long gray jacket onto your body. Out of pure habit, you look around for a weapon. Yours are stashed on the other side of the bed, but Cooper’s shotgun is propped against the wall by the door. You opt to grab it, slinging the gun onto your shoulder and making sure the strap is secure before cracking open the door. 
The old clock hanging in the hall reads one thirty in the morning, but the sounds from the saloon downstairs continue as normal. Perhaps a bit more toned down than the daytime, but voices still mingle and dance together up the stairs. You trail after them, patting your pockets to ensure there’s enough caps to pay for a hot meal. Cooper’s half-canister of Jet and the wrinkled bounty poster sure ain’t going to pay for anything.
Eyes flicker towards you as you step onto the main floor, but they return back to their own tables soon enough. Everyone’s clad in raincoats or hats, outfitted for the weather. The town was a central point for a few settlements which popped up around it, and a major trade destination. The frequency of armed caravan guards passing through proved to be a rather decent deterrent for the unpleasant types, and most people had been nice to the point of frightening. 
At the bar, you pull out a rusty stool and settle onto it. All the other patrons but one are at tables closer to the door. The same man who’d rented the room to Cooper and yourself is down the bar chatting. 
“No surprise there. They’ve got some questionable folks runnin’ cargo these days.” The bartender is saying. He drops his hands on the bar. “But they take what they can get.”
The other man at the bar is older, just like the bartender. Dressed in dirty clothes, hood up with heavy gloves next to him, you figure he might be a lead farmer. You give a brief nod his way before focusing back on the bartender as he slides over. 
“What can I do for you, ma’am?” For someone out in the Wasteland, his face is kind. Weathered and probably suffering from radiation poisoning like the rest of you, but kind nonetheless. 
“Got anything hot to eat back there?” You ask, but think better of it. “Or anything to eat?”
“You’re in luck. One of the trade caravans left us with an old brahmin yesterday. Fresh brahmin steak if it tickles your fancy?”
You toss the caps onto the bar. “Sign me up.”
He busies himself at the cooking station for a few minutes, and eventually delivers a steaming steak in front of you. He checks on the other bar-goer and floats back over to you after a few minutes. 
“So, I have to ask.” He starts, “You came in here with that ghoul, yeah?”
You pause, mouth full and one hand instinctively freeing itself for a weapon if necessary. He must have caught onto your bristling, as he holds both hands up in a placating gesture.
“I’m sorry. It’s nothin’ bad, I was just curious. We don’t get a lot of ghouls around here, let alone people traveling with them.”
Hell, there was no need for him to tell you that. Cooper and yourself brought stares everywhere you went, discounting the cities you frequented that knew you both by reputation. You’d been called every name in the book in small communities like this, from chem-head, to ghoul-fucker and anything people could come up with.
“Yeah, we travel together. Easier to stay alive and make money when there’s two of us.” You saw off another piece of steak. 
“Bounty hunters, then?”
You shrug. “Sometimes. We do whatever needs doing most of the time. If the price is right.”
If Cooper was next to you, he’d be spewing threats of dismemberment and cutting out tongues for all the questions, but you didn’t mind. It was nice meeting someone who wasn’t immediately training crosshairs on your body. 
“Fair enough. I’m Clint, if you need anything.” The bartender wipes his hands with a rag and moves about his way, readjusting liquor bottles and carrying beers out to tables that are hollering for them. 
You finish your steak and gulp down the water Clint had set in front of you at some point. It washes away the gamey taste of mutated beef. You wait for him to return, as you were sure that fresh brahmin steak qualified as ‘anything good’ in Cooper’s eyes. 
“This seat taken?” 
You barely glance over your shoulder at the question, but give a half-hearted shrug. There was a whole bar and whoever this idiot is wants to sit next to you?
“Nuh-uh.”
The stool scrapes against the uneven wood floor, and you look over at the man that’s sat himself beside you. He’s younger than you expected, but vaguely familiar as if you’ve passed by him before. Brown hair slicked back close to his skull and shaved on the sides,  and a distinct pale discoloration on his chin. There’s a valiant attempt at beard growth but it’s patchy at best. 
You stare for just a moment before returning to the drops of water left in your dirty cup. 
“Now, I can see you’re not from around here.” His tone is boyish, almost conceited. 
Narrowly resisting an eyeroll, you set your cup back down. “Aren’t you just a right scholar?”
“I know a few things.” He waves his hand at Clint as he returns, and a beer is set in front of him moments later. “I know that you rode into town tonight, looking for a bounty.”
Lightning illuminates all of the cracks in the building. Thunder rolls. 
It takes a moment, but hits you as a smile is breaking out across the man’s face. You hadn’t passed by him before or traded. Your hand ghosts over the folded-up bounty poster in the pocket of your coat. 
“Name’s Spade, by the way.” 
Fuck. You’d never forget the name of a bounty. Especially the one set to inherit an entire Gunner outfit that had been threatening caravans for miles in every direction. 
“Spade, huh? Named after a shovel?” You prod. “No wonder you ain’t good at making friends.”
Spade calmly sips on his beer. “Neither are you, I hear. Though that might be due to your choice in company.”
Turning your head all the way towards him, you entertain the banter. Trying to avoid the subject of having a partner. You didn’t doubt if the shooting started that Cooper would come running down the stairs, but surprise is always an advantage. 
“Yeah, I’m starting to question it myself.” 
“I heard you were funny.” Spade chuckles, and withdraws a bulky device from underneath his coat. It crackles and pops like a geiger counter. “But I know you didn’t come here alone.”
You listen to the device pop, but don’t recognize it. 
“Say, how much Rad-Away do you go through? Traveling, eating, sleeping and whatever else with The Ghoul must really fuck with your health. His radiation signature is all over you.” Spade tucks the device away. 
“Don’t worry, I wear lead-lined panties.” You pat your thighs and stand. “And I don’t have time for this.”
Just as you make it to your feet, you notice the rest of the patrons do the same. They all shrug off their raincoats and reveal standard Gunner clothing, and you pause. Betraying nothing, you simply stare. Counting eleven opponents including Spade. Too busy thinking about how you grabbed Cooper’s shotgun and no extra ammo because you’re apparently a fool. The one combat knife in your boot is a viable choice, but tough to handle so many. You note Clint’s swift exit out the back door of the establishment.
“All this firepower for me?” 
Spade follows suit, and stands. He towers over you. 
“Don’t play dumb. I know they want me dead, and I’m not keen on letting that happen.”
You nod. “Understandable.”
And it’s then one of his men gets twitchy, and you’re diving behind the bar at the cocking of a gun. 
Spade hollers something at the men that sound suspiciously like “kill her”, but the thunder drowns him out. You press your back up against the bar for cover, and whip the shotgun into your grip. You feel at the knife in your boot, and brush past the Jet in your pocket. 
“Fuck it.” 
You draw out the inhalant and put it between your lips. Bracing for the adrenaline rush, you squeeze the Chems into your mouth. Not much of a frequent user, you resist the urge to cough and waste the effects. 
In just a few seconds, the world around you feels as if it’s moving in slow motion. You leap up from behind the bar, aiming and popping off the two rounds you have into the groupies that Spade brought along. One slug crashes through two of them while the other blows another’s head to pieces. 
Three down, eight to go. 
You sling the gun back over your shoulder and draw the knife. In your peripheral, you notice Spade reaching for his waistband. On pure instinct, you whip the knife in his direction. It finds his mark in his right eye, and he goes to the ground wailing. Just as the Jet begins to wear thin, you hop over the bar towards the crowd. 
“Fuck her up!”
You bend down near Spade’s writing frame, and rip the knife out of his eye socket with a wet squelch. Leaving him for last, you twirl the knife around and beckon at his cronies. 
“Well?”
You lunge towards the closest, thrusting the knife at his throat. He catches your wrist and twists it away, but you’re quick to jam your elbow upwards into his chin. It stuns him just enough that you can stab the knife into his guts and rip sideways. Entrails spill, and you reach through them to grab the pipe pistol at his hip. 
The next few go down via bullet, and you’re eventually left with only Spade alive. He’s clawed his way to his feet as you finished off his gang, and now has an automatic pistol pointed at your head. It wavers dangerously, as he’s half-blind and still spurting blood from the wounded eye socket.
You drop the pistol that’s been occupying your right hand and hold up the knife. 
“Wanna get reacquainted?” 
Spade bares his teeth at you. “And here we brought all the guns for The Ghoul.”
A shrug. “I’m sort of offended that I was underestimated.”
“I’ll make a note of it.” 
Spade pulls the trigger as soon as you duck. His intentions were given away by the fractional squint of his good eye, struggling to aim properly. You charge towards him beneath the rounds, colliding with his knees. The bullets fly upwards, blasting holes in a narrow column up the wall. It sends splinters flying near the staircase. 
“Motherfucker!”
About fucking time Cooper decided to show up.
You straddle Spade’s body and knock the pistol away. One boot keeps his wrist pinned down, and you bring the knife to his neck. 
“Next time,” You growl, tracing the blade along his Adam’s Apple, “Skip the small talk.”
Blood sprays as you apply pressure, puncturing through his carotid. You drag the knife to the side, leaning away to avoid the spray as best as possible. Until he stops twitching, you keep him pinned to the ground. 
“Well goddamn baby, next time invite me to the party.” The Ghoul, as Spade had referred to him, swaggers over to you.  His honey-soaked eyes survey the carnage. “I thought you was gettin’ something to eat, not takin’ out our bounty so soon.”
You wipe your bloody hands on Spade’s coat and huff indignantly. “And I thought your old ass would move faster when you heard gunshots.”
Cooper holds out a gloved hand to help you up. “Thunder blocked out the sound.”
“Excuses, excuses.” You grumble, allowing him to pull you up. 
The world spins, thanks to the adrenaline fading and Jet withdrawals. You stagger into Cooper, and he grips your arm. 
“You ain’t shot, are ya? Left the stimpaks upstairs.”
You shake your head and let him steer you onto a barstool. “Nah. Jet.”
Cooper whoops. “My girl! Well shouldn’t we just be celebratin’ this momentous occasion.”
“Fuck you. I’m not doing anything but going back to bed.” You press your forehead into his chest. “Fuckin’ Chems.”
The Ghoul chuckles and uses two fingers to hold and lift your chin. He kisses your lips, already dry from licking at them. You hold the lapels of his coat to keep upright and only pull away when another pang of dizziness wracks you. 
He steps away for a moment, and gets to work removing Spade’s head from his body to return for the money. 
“Damn.” You rub your temples. “How the hell do you use that shit all the time?”
“Years of practice.” Cooper hums, and finds a burlap sack behind the bar to package the head. “Sure worked good for you, huh?”
You hop from the stool, using the bar as a crutch to stay upright. “Uh huh, right up until it didn’t. Now I wanna go to bed. Desperately.”
“Fine, fine.” Cooper relents, bloody sack in hand. He follows you to the stairs, free hand ghosting over your hip. 
The Ghoul hovers behind as if you’re going to start cartwheeling back down, and herds you back into the rented room. You strip and crawl back in bed, hiding away from the cool air beneath the blanket. Cooper takes his time, but eventually blesses you with his body heat. You cozy up, letting it burn away the symptoms of Jet withdrawals.
“Did you ever get somethin’ to eat?”
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thanks for reading, much love ❤
Read More: Fallout Masterlist
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charred-slime · 1 month ago
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clingy
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summary:
It makes no sense for the moment to be so gloomy. You’ll be back in two weeks, and you’ve gone longer without seeing Charlie due to his oftentimes wonky schedule with his job, but there’s just something in the air that weighs heavily on you both. Charlie’s arms stay loosely wrapped around you, and it pains you to pull away. “I’ll call you once I arrive, yeah?” You reassure him. He nods, and before you know it, you’re on the road, driving away from home. Or, reader goes away for a couple weeks, and Charlie's a clingy bastard about it
pairing: charlie x gn!reader
word count: 1.4k
a/n: this is reeeally cheesy, but i hope that works out and makes it overall better! i really enjoyed writing this one^^ (time to get to the other requests-)
ao3 link, if you prefer. otherwise, the story's under the readmore!
It was early morning. Way too early morning. The reason you’d gotten up so early was that you were going to visit some family a couple states over. The way there would either be a long drive or a short flight, and you decided the extra expense of the flight was worth it. What you hadn’t realized was that the flight was at 7 in the damn morning.
Charlie’s place was a decently short drive to the airport, so you’d decided to stay the night there instead. You’d woken in your partner’s bed to the sound of your alarm by your head, reading 3 A.M. Luckily he hadn’t roused to it, because he could sleep through an atomic bomb, and stayed tightly wrapped around your form. Everything about him was tempting. Comfortable. His light snores, his warmer than hell body heat, his expensive ass mattress—but you managed to resist. 
With some experienced wriggling, you get out of his grasp and head to the kitchen. 
All of your stuff was packed and by the front door, ready for leaving at any moment. All there was left to do was get ready and head out. 
After washing up and changing into some semi-presentable clothes, you get to frying a couple eggs while the coffee brewed. A playlist plays softly in the background, nothing loud enough to wake Charlie (you’d know from much experience waking before him), so you’re shocked when you feel vibrations of walking headed your way. 
Soon enough, there are familiar arms wrapped around your waist, and a familiar weight placed on your shoulder. His messy hair flops forward and tickles your cheek, especially when he nuzzles his head like a cat. 
“Why’re you ‘wake?” He grumbles, barely audible with the combination of being muffled by your shoulder and his gravelly morning voice. 
“Visiting my family, remember?” You answer, getting to plate your freshly fried eggs then turning the fire off. There’s no telling how this interaction would end, and you’d rather not burn the building down by accident. 
You feel his head tilt to one side, as if considering this oh so new information (you’d told him a week ago, and he was the one who suggested sleeping over the night before), then his grip around your waist tightens. 
“Nuh uh. Gotta stay here with me.” His hands go to yours and unarms it of the spatula before immediately going back to holding you. “Come back t’bed.” He clumsily pulls at you in the general direction of the bedroom, and you roll your eyes fondly before turning around in his arms. 
You push him until he’s leaning against the kitchen island and take in the glory that is post-sleep Charlie. His eyes are a little swollen and barely open, covered even more by the rat's nest he calls a bedhead. His entire demeanor is loose, muscles lacking the usual extreme energy found in his videos, leaning forward more into you than the island. And of course, he’s pouting. 
With a fond sigh, you comb your fingers through his hair a little until it’s out of his eyes, though no less messy. He leans into the touch, and juts his bottom lip out even more when you take your hand away. 
“I can't back out of this one, sweetheart. You know I would if I could.” You whisper, hand caressing the side of his face and thumb lightly running over the apple of his cheek. He leans into that too. You could've sworn he had golden retriever energy, but he seems to become cat-like when he's sleepy with all of his clinginess. 
“I wanna be mad but I can't be mad when you call me that,” he whines, as if he doesn't absolutely adore it when you use pet names. 
“I know, baby, that's why I said it.” When his pout gets deeper (how was that even possible?), you lean in for a quick peck on the lips. When you pull back, his eyes are already more awake, and his bottom lip has retracted to a more reasonable level of grump. 
He leans back in for another kiss, and who are you to deny him? Your lips meet in a chaste kiss, both of you far too tired to bring anything more into it. The surrounding air is cold in the way that homes are at dawn, but kissing Charlie warms you from inside that no heater could ever accomplish. Cheesy, but undoubtedly true considering the sparks that continue to fly so far into your relationship. 
This time, as you pull away, Charlie’s pout has fully transformed into a familiar goofy grin. So easy to please. 
“Think you can let me go now?” As much as you’d like to stay there forever (or, even better, crawl back into bed as Charlie suggested), the digital clock on his wall already read 3:57 AM, and you needed to get going to ensure that you wouldn’t be late. 
He groans dramatically, pulling you closer into another hug. Everything about it screams “do you really have to go?” and the way you pat his back says “I don’t like it any more than you do” in response. 
Eventually, his brain apparently comes around to the idea, albeit reluctantly, because he asks, “how long’re you gonna be gone for?” 
“Just two weeks.”
“Two whole weeks?” Charlie groans again, although this one was evidently more for show than anything. You give him a soft laugh in response, nudging his shoulder. 
“Alright, big guy. Enough with the act.” 
You turn back to the kitchen counter and start packing a couple things to bring with you. Protein bars and fruits for a light breakfast since you won’t have time to finish your eggs, a tumbler for your coffee, and a roll of the eyes for extra measure when Charlie won’t let go of his contact with you throughout all of it. 
At the door, once all of your stuff is on your back and in your hands, you turn back to him for one final kiss goodbye. He wraps you in another hug like the koala of a man he is, and the touch lingers even after you pull back. 
It makes no sense for the moment to be so gloomy. You’ll be back in two weeks, and you’ve gone longer without seeing Charlie due to his oftentimes wonky schedule with his job, but there’s just something in the air that weighs heavily on you both. Charlie’s arms stay loosely wrapped around you, and it pains you to pull away. 
“I’ll call you once I arrive, yeah?” You reassure him. 
He nods, and before you know it, you’re on the road, driving away from home. 
________
Beyond the visit to family, travelling a little was nice. You treated yourself to some desserts you might not usually allow yourself to have, got some alone time during later hours, and even met some old friends from your hometown. All in all, it was quite the successful trip.
None of that mattered in your mind as you drove back home from the airport. Two weeks of only seeing Charlie on a screen. Only hearing his voice through the crappy tinny speakers of your phone. Not being able to touch him. 
You’d poked fun at him for being so dramatic about the duration of your trip, but you quickly ate your words. 
Once your car is parked safely and your luggage is jammed into your arms (you’d rather break them than take more than one trip to take stuff in), you’re rushing to Charlie’s door. You didn’t expect him to be available immediately, because you knew it was a streaming day, but wanted to be inside as soon as possible. 
You’re fumbling with your keys when the door suddenly opens in your face, and your feet are no longer touching the floor. You yelp as Charlie picks you up, dropping everything to wrap your arms around him as he swings you around in a big circle. 
“Charlie! What the fuck?!” You scream, but can’t help the laugh of absolute glee that escapes you. The wind whips in your hair, and you’re only put down when you have a few too many close calls with the doorway. 
Even after you’re placed back on the ground, you’re at a loss for air as Charlie immediately pulls you back into a lung-puncturing bear hug. His face is buried in the crook of your neck, one band going to the back of your head to cradle it closer. You’ve never felt so welcome in your whole life. 
“I missed you,” he whispers.
You hum in response and lean into the hug more, patting his back as affirmation. 
For the rest of the day, Charlie doesn’t let go of you. He claims it’s necessary to “charge his boyfriend battery,” whatever that means, but you’re just happy to be by his side. 
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shycoconutt · 5 months ago
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you, more than anyone, know that satoru isn't invincible. as his closest friend, you see what those who call him “the strongest” miss.
they don't see him remove his blindfold at the end of the day, rubbing at his tired eyes. they don't notice how he spends each evening at jujutsu tech, staring out the window, watching the sun dip behind the mountains. they never question why his infinity is always active, even when there's no immediate threat. they don’t feel the tension in his muscles that lingers hours after he meets with the higher-ups. they aren’t aware of his sleep schedule, where he barely gets 1-3 hours of “rest” each night. they can’t imagine the countless scars he'd bear if not for his rct. they don’t realize that the only things he consumes are sweets to dull the constant ache behind his eyes, not food to nourish his body.
but you notice, of course you do.
-
after a late-night doom scroll, your eyes light up when you see an advertisement for a cooling gel eye mask. after purchasing one in a pretty pink color and storing it for 24 hours in the office freezer, you hold it behind you as you stroll casually into his room.
“toooooruuuuuuu,” you sing as you walk up behind his desk.
reclining in his chair, he lets his head lull off the back so you can see his face.
“i know you have something behind your back, weirdo. you can’t hide it from me, remember?” he says as he points to his eyes behind his mask with a goofy smile.
“tsk, just go along with it for a second, will ya?” you scold playfully.
not without a dramatic sigh, satoru folds his arms in front of his torso. suddenly, you feel the air around you still, signaling to you the drop in his infinity as he lets you have your way with whatever you plan on doing.
with one hand, you carefully peel off his mask and toss it on his desk.
“keep your eyes closed, okay?”
“mmmmm”
the short walk from the communal fridge to his office was enough time to freeze your fingertips. bringing the gel mask in front of you, you do your best to stretch it as flat as possible before placing it slowly on his face.
“oh! what the- it’s so, ah, cold!”
you smile, tugging the elastic band around his head to hold the mask in place as he jerks around in his chair. your hands naturally fall to rest on his shoulders to steady him in place.
“toru!” you laugh, “it’s okay, just give it a second to get used to it!”
slowly you feel his tense shoulders begin to relax under your palms. as if on instinct, you start to work at them, kneading the muscles between your fingers. satoru’s face flushes a soft shade of pink, probably a reaction to the harsh temperature on his skin.
“huh,” his voice soft, “this actually feels pretty good.”
“of course it does,” you scold, “things like this exist for a reason. it’s called self-care, toru. it’s this wild and crazy idea where you take care… of yourself.”
“sounds like a gimmick.”
a smile creeps to your lips but quickly falls flat. satoru is always dismissive about his health, putting on a playful tone with his signature smile. but it’s a mask covering the ugly truth–there’s no time for self-care when there’s no sense of self. self does not exist in a world where he is merely a pawn–a very powerful, unforgettable pawn–but one nonetheless. he is an atomic bomb in society’s arsenal, labeled the strongest with the security that there is nothing, no one that rivals his ability. we are all protected while he suffers, out there alone in scenarios absent from our nightmares, as none of it is fathomable.
no one cares.
no one knows.
they are all so ignorant.
we are all so ignorant.
“OW,” satoru gasps, snapping you out of your spiral.
“oh my gods, i’m so sorry! did i hurt you?”
he puts on a show for a few more seconds before relaxing again. “not really, but i can read your thoughts and you were starting to get a little intense there.”
bringing your hands off of him, you fold them in front of you defensively, “you cannot read my mind.”
satoru rolls his head side to side on the chair, teasing you. “yes i can, and i appreciate you worrying about me.”
you huff out the air in your lungs as he peels the mask off his face, gets up, and turns to stand before you. his size makes it difficult to take him all in at once–his proximity to you causes you to crane your head upward to look him in the eyes. the skin around them glistens subtly from the condensation there, making them reflect even more intensely somehow. getting lost in his eyes isn’t just poetry, the blue pools of infinity stare right back at you, so deep and real.
it’s selfish to think you have any ownership, any authority over them. but in this lifetime, you’ll be damned if anyone dares to take them away from you.
“but i’ll be okay.”
his tone is so soft. as you search his face for any sign of fallacy, you see now that there is no mask–no fake smile. his infinity remains down, confirmed by the hand you place above his heart. 
“you promise?” you question in a whisper.
suddenly, but not unexpectedly, his hand is placed above yours. 
“cross my heart,” he swears, lifting your hand with his own to draw an x over his chest.
humming in response, you bring your eyes to your intertwined hands. it’s difficult to not pry more, but, unfortunately, you know this has to be enough.
“in all honesty,” you begin, “i wish i could kidnap you to a remote, faraway island. i would chain you up in bed, feed you warm meals every day, and force you to get a solid eight hours of sleep.”
satoru’s laugh rings throughout the room.
“sounds kinky,” he muses with a wiggle of his brow. 
sighing dramatically, you continue “but, alas, i cannot. so taking you to my place tonight will just have to suffice.”
“huh?”
“fine, fine, i won’t chain you to my bed. but i am making you takoyaki and tucking you in at eleven.” with his hand in yours, you begin to lead him out of his office. quickly, he is in your step by your side, a wide grin on his face. 
“you know,” he tempts, “you can chain me to your bed if you want to.”
“don’t tempt me, boy,” you play along, “you know how i can get carried away.”
somehow, the shiver that escapes satoru’s body is even more intense than the chill of any ice-cold face mask.
a/n: i wrote this sometime after i read the thirty-three questions gege was asked about satoru gojo and was sad to learn more about his daily life. our overworked king deserves a little break, yeah?
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kitkat13001 · 24 days ago
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♱ . ݁ ⛧ ₊ ⊹ 𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚕𝚍 𝚌𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚜 𝚒𝚗
we creep up on extinction, i pull your arms right in i weep and say “goodnight, love,” while my organs pack it in and here it is, our final night alive and as the earth burns to the ground, oh girl, it's you that i lie with as the atom bomb locks in oh, it's you i watch tv with as the world, as the world caves in
⤷ l lawliet x reader
⤷ soft angst, implied character death (takes place right before L dies), title and lyrics from matt maltese’s “as the world caves in”
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those damn bells. he’s heard them all day long. 
it started as distracting and has now escalated to pissing him off. 
as if ryuzaki didn’t already have enough to deal with. he’s in his prime, at the peak of this case, so very close to solving it all.
and now this, these damn bells. 
you’d noticed his increased irritability today. oh, how he’d felt like crying after he’d snapped at you earlier. all you had done was ask if he was feeling alright, offered to maybe bring him some cake, and he’d written you off with a snippy tone and a sarcastic comment. 
guilt shriveled up his heart like a punch to the gut. 
of course it’s not your fault. you’re not a detective, and you definitely didn’t hear the bells. even if you did, you’d have no idea what they meant in any case. 
he wishes he could tell you. now that he knows what’s coming, what was inevitable in every universe, there is so much he wishes he could tell you. but he still can’t, there’s just not enough time. that’s always the problem, isn’t it?
he’s already made his final preparations. have watari arrange to delete the files, contact roger, alert the orphanage. it’s all in order. 
he’s made his own arrangements, too.  a letter with his final words to you, everything he’s always wanted to say and never could. you’ll find it tomorrow morning, probably. 
there’s really nothing else to do now but wait. 
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you’re already asleep when he comes shuffling into the bedroom, the patter of water droplets following him in. 
you stir as he pads toward you, as if you can sense him even in your dreams. you sit up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes and call out to him in a soft voice. it’s a tone he only ever hears when you say his name. 
“you’re soaking wet,” you murmur, cupping his face between your hands as you look him over. his eyes are fixed on the spot between your brows where a concerned crease is growing. “what on earth were you doing?”
“up on the roof,” he whispers back. “just thinking. no need to be so worried, love.”
“i always worry about you,” you remind him, thumbs stroking his cheeks as you give him a soft smile. “that’s my job. i think you’ve been overworking yourself lately. i know you can’t help it, but you ought to at least take decent care of yourself.”
he gives no response aside from a low hum. he’s quiet as you towel him dry with gentle hands, get him out of his sopping clothes and into comfortable pajamas. 
you’re brushing his damp hair back with your fingers, tracing the lines of his face like you’re trying to memorize it with your touch, when he speaks in a quiet voice. 
“i’m sorry i snapped at you earlier.”
you blink, surprised. you’d just about forgotten it already. 
“is that what’s got you in this mood?” you muse, crawling into bed to sit beside him. not just that, he thinks as his hands find yours, resting in your lap. but that’s about the only thing i can apologize for right now. he can’t bring himself to meet your eyes. 
“it’s okay, ryuzaki,” you tell him, and he feels the warmth and kindness in your voice. 
no it’s not.
“i shouldn’t have spoken to you that way,” he insists quietly, staring down at your interlocked hands. 
“really, ryuzaki, i’m not upset. you’ve been overworked and stressed and i should’ve let you be.”
“i love you,” he says, his black hole eyes staring right through your soul. it doesn’t scare you. it never has. 
“i love you too, ryuzaki. let’s go to bed, okay? you’ll feel better tomorrow.”
he really wishes that were true, but he lets you pull him down to rest beside you anyway. he treasures the way your body curls against his, the warmth of you beside him. 
he tries to internalize it all. the smell of your shampoo, the faint humming of his computer in the corner, the rise and fall of your chest as you breathe. 
his fingers are ghostly gentle as they trace over the soft planes of your face. his heart tugs when your eyes crinkle with a little smile. 
“what are you looking at me like that for?” you ask in a whisper. 
it takes him a second to respond, lost in your eyes. “you’re…the most beautiful thing i’ve ever seen.”
you stifle a little giggle into the pillow, basking in this rare affection. you have no idea what tomorrow holds—the agony the coming days, weeks, years will be for you. 
what a small miracle the marginal odds of you two finding each other were. what a little tragedy it is that it was never something fated to last. 
but fate has no place here tonight. in the safety of this bedroom, with the rain pouring heavy outside and the man you love—the intangible, elusive enigma that is L transformed into the quiet, thoughtful, lovely man that you know as ryuzaki—at your side, you are happy. 
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dividers by @/saradika-graphics — because i love angst apparently?? kitty drops two bangers in one day, what are the odds. if you’re looking for fluff to fix this please check out daydream or my retired detective!L headcanons (where he lives!!) much love and take care, - 𝚔𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚢 !
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reconstructwriter · 1 year ago
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Star Wars Fix-it: The Holonet Edition
The well-bribed algorithms of the Holonet should have relegated Tookruta1387’s clip to the tender hearts of a few friends. The days of spontaneous viral posts – without credits to grease the wheels – died not long after the rise of megacorps in the Republic. But the poster was either lucky or savvy enough to play the algorithms because “Jedi Being Cold” exploded. Screens, conversation, even news. And their post was just the start of a trend…
“Jedi Being Cold”: An old transport ship, frost coating the inside of its windows. A corner swathed in a nest of robes. Within three padawans snuggle together, fast asleep. If they were cats they’d be purring. One is purring despite a lack of feline attributes. A hand nudges them with a datastick, only for it to float away to a cloud of similar items.
“Jedi Being Cold” part 2: A snow-covered lake. One knight finishes sculpting a realistic snow tiger. Two others Force push each other like hocky pucks across the ice. One goes flying towards the statue. An expression of ‘oh crap’. Incredible, Force- assisted acrobatics deftly avoids the sculpture but crashes right into the sculptor in a tangle of limbs, sending them skidding into a snow-bank. The third Jedi pokes their head into the many-limbed hole and gets snowballed for the trouble.
“Jedi Stealing Children”: A child at a slave auction. A robed figure swoops in like a hawk, slicing through chains with their lightsaber and ripping apart cages with the Force. The camera pans to one slaver Force shoved into a cage, clearly furious as the Jedi escapes with a whole crowd of people, many children.
“Jedi Stealing Children” becomes the title for 1287 pictures, clips and gifs before someone adjusts the algorithm. This makes them surprisingly hot commodities on the Dark Holo, especially the one with a Nautolan Master dramatically fleeing the capture attempts of a horde of children – ending in one dramatic arm reaching out as kids bury him
“Jedi As Warmongers”: A young Padawan, blood splattered, has a ‘does it get better’ look on their trembling face as they stare up at their Master. The Master is even grimier and gorier as they gather their Padawan up with an ‘I’m sorry but no’. The Padawan weeps and shakes, burying their face in their Master’s robes, who has silent tears down their face. In the background is a war zone.
“Jedi as Warmongers: part 2” Has war holomovie music playing in the background as the snap-thumm of a lightsaber echoes, vivid blue piercing the dark. The blade raises over something, is brought down…over a block of cheese and loaf of bread. The Jedi padawan gleefully declares: “Grilled Cheese for all!” The sound of sprinting footsteps is heard and a dramatic “Noooo,” from a Jedi Knight.
“Jedi as Warmongers: part 3”: The music has switched to aftermath of war horror, the kitchen looks like a cheese atomic bomb hit. The children are cleaning up and one wipes cheese with bread and pops it in their mouth: “grilled cheese for all!” An adult admonishes “You spit that out right now that’s not sanitary.” In the background the Jedi Knight is doing the same thing.
“Jedi Showing Off” Is Yoda’s contribution to this mess – which is just him going through an entire stack of photo-albums on his previous padawans. He opens the last book to Dooku the Padawan when Dooku the Master barges in: “Stop this indignity immediately!” The camera shows an intense close-up of someone’s palm. “Who even taught you how to operate holo-video? –” feed cuts off.
“Jedi Dignity”: Feed resumes from a different perspective as Master Dooku – previous camera still in hand – gives Yoda and several other watching Jedi a lecture on appropriate Holonet-posting behavior. “Not appropriate baby photos are?” Yoda asks, a card-shark’s spread of pictures with Dooku’s baby face. Dooku yanks them out of Yoda’s hands. “Not without m-the person’s permission!” Does a double-take. “Are you filming –?” Horrified glower. “Mace you traitor!” Video abruptly cuts off. Permanently this time.
Not even algorithm adjustments – and there are clearly several – can stop that from becoming viral. “Mace you traitor!” becomes slang for the latest generation. Mace himself rolls with it. Dooku attempts to entomb himself in the archives until this all blows over.
Actions may speak louder than words but memes speak loudest of all.
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pedgito · 1 year ago
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𝐒𝐎𝐅𝐓 & 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 | a joel miller x reader oneshot
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summary: this is based around work song by hozier, felt a deep need to write some joel miller comfort stuff. listen to the song if you fancy, it really helps, i swear. this is just a lot of angst, fluff, and longing wrapped into a 5k fic i wrote out a couple weeks ago out of missing writing and joel miller.
word count & warnings: 5k | 18+, fem!reader, mentions of violence/blood/fighting (nothing graphic), joel being in a state of shock, sex for comfort/coping, no heavy sex warning it's just v intimate, psuedo love confessions bc joel is bad with words
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It’s like an atom bomb uprooting your world with the heavy rasps of a hand against solid wood, sending a sharp buzz of electricity down your spine as you shoot up from your position on the couch, nearly tripping over Ellie on the way. The remnants of a night spent like a teen, enjoying a sleepover with the young girl who had a lot to talk about. You knew enough about Savage Starlight that you were practically an aficionado now, but that didn’t matter. 
Ellie only stirs slightly, turning on her side on the cushion of her make-shift pallet and you open the front door slowly despite your rapidly beating heart.
Joel never knocked, never really announced himself. He would come in quiet, quick, and busy himself upstairs. You knew that because he usually found you in his bed, waiting for him.
Tonight was a little different. 
No grave can hold my body down,
I'll crawl home to her
You world spins as you see what’s on the other side, a soft gasp leaving your lips as you see him.
Joel. But he wasn’t alone.
“Maria—“ It’s laced with too many emotions, too many meanings. You shift your gaze between the two.
“Everyone—“ Maria has to force herself to take a deep breath, a careful hand on Joel’s arm as she forces him to take a step forward, “everyone is fine.”
“Maria, he’s covered in blood.” As if that wasn’t obvious.
It was crusted and oxidized down, sticking to his skin and covering him like something out of a horror movie. He wasn’t shaking, that was the first thing you noticed. Joel was unnaturally still. Frozen.
“Do you have him?” Maria asks, only expecting one answer. “I’ve gotta tend to Tommy and he’s not telling me a damn thing.”
“Is he hurt?” Your brow furrowed in concern, but Maria doesn’t elaborate at all. You reach for Joel silently, his skin icey to the touch, the rigid, cold weather partially to blame.
“He’ll be alright.” Maria assures you with a nod and she’s gone without another word, leaving you to stare at the shell of a man before you, his eyes boring into the ground, staring at the scuffed up material of his boots, not a word to be spoken. Not even so much as a breath.
“Is he in shock?” Ellie’s less than chipper voice speaks from behind you, forcing your heart to kickstart again.
“Um, I don’t—know…” You pull him inside gently, which he doesn’t fight, but he feels lifeless, “has he—have you seen him like this before?”
“Never.” Her eyes well with silent tears and you quickly shoo her away. Ellie almost seems thankful. Joel can’t admit it to himself but Ellie knows. 
You care. 
“Go upstairs and get some sleep, Ellie.” You assure her, “I can handle it.”
The walk to Joel’s bedroom feels miles away. Joel shows no signs of life still, as you drag him inside of his room and shut the door with a soft click.
“You need to shower.” 
Joel knows this, he can smell it on him.
The smell of death.
You smell it too, but you can’t bring yourself to admit it.
“Joel,” You speak softly, invading his line of sight, a gentle touch against rough skin, his scruff a few days grown and there’s a small twitch as your warm hand makes contact, “are you here?”
His nod is a sigh of relief, a weight off your chest.
“Okay—okay, that’s good,” You keep your voice low, like a secret between the both of you, “do you need my help?”
Joel shakes his head weakly, pulling at the buttons of his thick coat, realizing slowly that it was just as bloodied as the rest of him. He wants it off. All of it. Now.
“Are you going to fight me if I try to help?” It’s lighthearted, but you can see how deeply it digs at Joel, like a fresh wound. “Sorry—I just, I want to help. Okay?”
He doesn’t respond, but he doesn’t push your hands away when they reach forward and take the coat from his hands. You toss it in a nearby corner, out of sight and out of mind.
You could handle it later, get rid of the mess so Joel wouldn’t have to bother with it.
He toes off his boots after tugging at the laces, delicate fingertips tracing down his chest as you unbutton his flannel, forcing it down his shoulders. It takes a moment, but eventually he’s down to his boxers and tattered white undershirt, barefoot on the hardwood floor.
And he stops, leaning into you, pressing his forehead against your own in a silent bid of thankfulness, a heavy sigh escaping his chest.
Joel showers alone, eerily quiet. You get rid of the clothes, bringing them out to the garage to deal with in the morning.
Joel is already in the bed by the time you make it back to his bedroom, but if he was actually asleep was yet to be discovered, the nightmare replaying behind his eyelids unbeknownst to you. 
I was three days on a drunken sin
I woke with her walls around me
Joel wasn’t supposed to come back until later in the evening that day, well after work was wrapped up for the day and everyone was already tucked into bed. You found yourself in Joel’s bed most nights now, off and on for the first few months but now, almost a year into…whatever this was, it was a weekly thing, as often as Joel wasn’t out on patrol. 
There was never an agreement about what this was either, not that there needed to be. But, the unspoken rule was to keep your problems away–the anger, the fear, the suppressed feelings you both have tried to keep at bay for weeks now. Joel only mildly complains about things around Jackson, but never about his life before, how he feels now, or how his pseudo-daughter seeks out comfort in your presence when Joel isn’t around. 
Joel hasn’t stirred for hours, or so it feels. The night sky fades away into early morning, the tiniest amount of dawn peeking through his window and bathing him in a shadow of blue. The crinkle of sheets pulls your attention toward his face, your body heats like a furnace as it slid near, hoping that even in his slumber he might draw closer. There’s a brief moment where you think he might wake, but he doesn’t. Instead, he pulls you closer. Nuzzles. 
You’ll take it. 
He moves silently, letting you hold him. An arm slipped under his head, a leg slipped between his own thighs and his hands found their way around your middle and you sigh, a deep breath through your nose that does nothing to calm your worrying, aching heart. 
If he wanted to talk about it, he would. That’s all you can hope for.
I didn't care much how long I lived
But I swear I thought I dreamed her
Joel is edging on delirious. The adrenaline was beginning to wane and he kept seeing things in faint recollection. The faces of the couple that had snuck into the cabin he and Tommy were patrolling last night, the fear on his brother’s face–something he hasn’t seen from Tommy since they were teenagers. They’re battle-hardened warriors, attack first and ask questions later. His brother was helpless then and if it weren’t for Joel’s terrible bout of insomnia—he couldn’t think about it.
He feels everything finally caught up to him, the physical exertion, the mental toll, he’s never slept so easily in his life and he feels terrible about it. He feels terrible about bringing this on you, forcing you to help piece him back together and keep him from falling apart. 
Joel is a man, solid and steel-like in his ways but he’s not invulnerable to emotion. He feels it creeping in as he blinks his tired eyes open, the flutter in his chest growing strong when he feels you wrapped around him and his own limbs just the same. 
He could’ve swore you left. The look on your face, of pure terror and disgust as he poured his heart out to you, but Joel quickly realizes that was only a dream, something his mind cooked up in the haze of hysteria.
“Is Tommy hurt?” You ask with a timidness he’s not used to, your fingers massaging at the base of his neck, twirling a curl of his hair around your finger idly, “Maria...didn’t say, she looked exhausted.”
We don’t talk about these things.
We don’t talk.
We don’t.
“I’m not asking you to tell me what happened,” You assure him like he’d spoked aloud, “Just…even a nod, Joel. Anything.”
Joel waits too long, to the point where you think he’s fallen back asleep. But eventually, he shakes his head. You relax briefly. No, he wasn’t hurt.
But, that doesn’t explain the blood. 
As much as you wanted to know, it wasn’t your place to ask.
She never asked me once
about the wrong I did
Joel doesn’t understand why he feels drawn to you, so eager to have you here, home. You had your own place, your own things, but when you were here it almost felt normal. Real. He’s dragged this out for months, avoiding the looks you give him when things get a little too intense and he pulls away. 
Ellie calls him an idiot every month that passes, knowing how good it is to have you around.
“Jesus, Joel—you can’t really be that oblivious.”
Joel forces Ellie to drop it.
But, not before she mumbles the word under her breath.
There’s a soft sob that racks your body as Joel stirs, crying silently above him with worry. You weren’t as great at burying those emotions as him, unfortunately.
Because, for tonight, well—it was almost too much to process.
“I took care of it,” Joel speaks through his gruff, sleep-filled voice, “Tommy’s fine.”
It? Took care of it? Come on, Joel.
“It was a couple. Hunters. They were from the west.”
You stay silently, scared that speaking might startle him too. You didn’t want to steal the chance of knowing, understanding.
“I handled it.” The emphasis around the word is enough to make you understand.
He killed them. There was no way around that.
“I’ve never…” The quiver in Joel’s voice is apparent, no matter how hard he tries to mask it, “I’ve felt a lot of things. Anger, betrayal, but that fear—”
You squeeze your eyes shut, pulling Joel closer into the space you shared.
“They had their hands around him,” Joel explains slowly, like he’s trying and failing to relive that sight in his mind, “my damn hearing, old fucking age—another minute and things would’ve been a hell of a lot different.”
“But, you took care of it.” You affirmed him and his hands tightened against your skin. “Seem pretty damn capable to me.”
“Fuckin’ cowards.” Joel spits out, “We were sleepin’ and they tried to get the jump on us.”
“It’s alright, though—Tommy’s okay, you’re…okay,” You hesitate, a quiver of a breath from Joel ghosts over your chest, his tired eyes peering into yours, “You’re okay, right?”
“Always am,” Joel assures you with a low, soft response, “had so much on mind, though, ya’ know?”
“Well, yeah—”
Joel shakes his head, cuts you off for a brief moment. You don’t really mind, talking felt too draining right now.
“Ellie’s still learnin’, she can’t even go out on patrol by herself. Tommy and Maria have the baby now.” Joel’s fingers squeeze again, a nervous tic he’s picked up when he’s got himself wrapped around you, the urge to say things he wishes he could but can’t. You’re begging for it now, wondering if this was the moment. “I couldn’t live with myself if things went the other way.”
My babe would never fret none
About what my hands and my body done
Joel was a killer. Is. But, with good intentions. Not that it was needed anymore.
Survival, family, protection. He’s killed for the wrong reasons and the good ones, but it’s never been something you’ve judged him on. You never even questioned it. You accepted it, moved on, and treated him like everyone else. But, of course, there was a tinge of sweetness that creeped in, got him all caught and wound up in your web.
“Did she give you any trouble last night?” It’s a quick turn from the heavy conversation you were having, but it isn’t lost on you. He’s silently asking things to shift to something else.
“No more than the usual,” You shrug, talking softly in the early morning ambience, wind howling outside his bedroom window, a storm brewing on the horizon, “I don’t think it’s me that you should be worried about her giving trouble anyways.”
He would be stuck here in Jackson for a few days. You’ve never been more thankful for shitty weather in a goddamn apocalypse. 
“That kid loves you.” Joel comments fondly, and I do too.
“Only because I help her and Dina sneak out during town movie nights,” You admit, glancing away sheepishly, “she really worries about you.”
Joel nods knowingly, his usual scowl returning to his face. You reach forward, rubbing your thumb along his cheekbone—in this light he looks fine, untouched and perfect, but he winced at the contact. He’s a tough man, but he’s not invincible. 
The touch of his fingers as they wrap around your palm are instinctive, he’s careful that he doesn’t startle you by the quick action, but it’s almost like he’s being shocked and brought back to hours before, the one hit they managed to land on him.
You’ve seen a few of Joel’s violent outbursts, yelling matches upon yelling matches with Tommy but it’s never been directed at you. You retract slightly, fingers curling over the top of his own.
“I’m sorry,” You apologize, “I didn’t realize—“
“I would never hurt you.” Joel says adamantly, but you can’t help but feel puzzled. “I’m not a monster.”
That idea never crossed your mind.
“Defending yourself doesn’t make you a monster, Joel.”
Joel doesn’t know why he feels the need for validation. 
“Maria—she thought I,” Joel laughs sadly, a huff of air that borders on defeat, “Tommy was hitchin’ the horses up and she saw me first, without him and she thought I left him behind. That I sacrificed my own damn brother to save my ass.”
Maria had never been fond of Joel, that much was always apparent, even from the moment you met. She tolerated him because he was Tommy’s brother but that was all. There was no way around it. 
“I’ve done plenty of shit to cement my place in hell somewhere, and so has Maria,” You tell him, “Doesn’t matter what she thinks, Tommy knows you would never do that.”
Joel squeezes your waist tighter, the soft skin molding under his calloused fingertips, “You’re too damn good to me.”
The kissing starts slowly, a soft caress as Joel moves in closer, and doesn’t even try—he waits for you, teasing you with a touch until you can’t fight anymore and you press your lips against his gently. It’s the first time in the last several hours that Joel doesn’t feel like he’s drowning, barely skimming the surface to keep himself afloat. 
He feels horrible, using you like this—coping with things by stowing them away and surrounding himself with you in a hope that you wouldn’t ask anymore questions, that he would have to explain his actions or justify them. But, you taste too damn sweet under his tongue and he prods until you let him in, a small sigh leaving your mouth as your lips part. 
“Fuck, darlin’.” He swears like a symphony, sounding more devious than it should as it leaves his lips, “Can’t keep at this, not with Ellie upstairs.”
“Joel, she’s not here.” It’s not so obvious to Joel, who’s just about as oblivious to every teen antic thrown his way. “She’s out with Dina, probably. That’s usually where she goes when she’s upset.”
Joel’s brow furrowed in confusion.
“I heard her moving around when you were asleep,” You explain quietly, jostling your head slightly on the pillow until Joel’s situated over you slightly, his head resting in the palm of his hand that held him upright, “it’ll do you some good to talk to her in the morning.”
Joel nods knowingly, half-smiling as he pushes your hair behind your ear, his thumb finding the sensitive dip behind your lobe and rubbing until you couldn’t hold your laughter in, letting it bubble out weakly before falling silent, a soft, but serious look growing across your features.
“Don’t ever scare me like that again,” You tell him, “please.”
“C’mere,” Joel nudges his chin upwards, drawing you in close, “I’m not goin’ down without a fight, darlin’.”
“I’m serious,” You don’t need to force a love confession on him, not that it would salvage anything or make things better, because Joel already understands—there’s too many instances where he’s felt his heart tug in all the weird, uncomfortable places he’s kept locked away since he was younger, before the outbreak, before Sarah, “you can’t do that anymore.”
“I’m here,” Joel assures you, forehead pressed firm against your own as he nods, “I’m right here.”
He failed to mention how after the attack, the split second of everything flashing through his memory, the possibility of losing Tommy, disappointing Ellie, that you were the one thing that kept him conscious enough to come home.
He’d left you with a burning kiss the day he left, kissing like two lovebirds trying to keep a secret as you hung around the stables as the pairs readied to leave. 
It was his own little promise of a return, but you didn’t realize in just what shape. He was good at masking, even now. Joel was hurting, but all he wanted was you.
And you could give him that.
And she put her love down soft and sweet
In the low lamplight I was free
Joel hums, soft and quiet, “Don’t move,” He pleads, “need you right here.”
His palms are heavy, feeling so much larger than they should as they span the length of your body, pulling you in close and cradling you like a safety blanket. Maybe you should stop, it isn’t the best route to cope with the situation, but Joel is there—wanting and needing and he’s mouthing at the junction of your neck in a way that has you gasping for air. 
He needs you to occupy his mind, it’s what you did best for him. Joel needed somewhere else to be, anywhere but the hellscape behind his eyes when sleep succumbed to his pure exhaustion.  
Just a moment. Just a moment to breathe. To feel.
Your brow furrows so deep that you're scowling now, but mostly out of concern, forehead scrunching from the emotion and you cradle Joel’s face carefully between your hands, “Tell me what you need.”
You. 
He doesn’t say as much, but you can feel him sifting for your tattered pajama pants as he digs his fingertips under the waistband and yanks, hoping you’ll get the idea. 
Okay, this is fine. He needs sex, you can provide him that. But, you won’t let him escape. Joel needed to be present and here with you, not forcing himself to some far off space in his mind and keeping you around him like nothing more than a warm body for him to fuck.
He’s got you all pliant under his touch as he needs at soft skin, thumb digging into your hip bone as he shifts between your legs lazily, spreading you wide and using the arm that is holding most of his weight to unfurl his hand and reach for that tight space behind your knee, tucking that leg up and over his right hip—this feels undoubtedly vulnerable, but he’s staring at you with those eyes and you absolutely fucking melt, his mouth parted by mere centimeters as his tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip.
“Go on, darlin’,” Joel encourages, “I know you need it too.”
That was an understatement.
He’s already hard, head of his cock resting against the small expanse of skin between his groin and belly button. It’s like a wave of heat that rushes over your bodies when you finally touch him how he’s been begging—not so much with words but pleading looks. He needs it even more than you do. 
Usually you would spend a while in the throes of leisurely foreplay, letting Joel devour you until you were nothing but a heap of numbness on the bed and only then would he allow you what you were begging for the entire time. His cock, buried deep enough inside you that it felt impossible. But, there was none of that.
Your thumb slides over the head, smearing the precum in a too teasing motion that has Joel cursing under his breath before you’re abruptly guiding him to your core, slick and waiting without a single touch, embarrassingly so. Fortunately, you and Joel were long over that. Joel was overly aware of the effect he had on you—mind, body, and soul. 
He slides home and you have to take a moment, a second to breath, chest expanding with a full breadth of air as Joel pulls you in closer, if that was even possible, warm hands settling firm on your hips, his head resting against the pillow you both shared, “There she is,” Joel comments vexingly, “always know what you need, right, baby?”
As good as it feels to hear him, the way he can melt you with a single phrase or sound, he’s still on guard in the way he’s shielding himself against your body, rocking his hips in a motion that drowns out all relative thinking and it builds, builds until you can’t take it and you feel like you just might burst. You slip a hand out from under him to pull at the chain on his bedside lamp, drowning you in a soft yellow glow and Joel doesn’t look right away—that’s how you know. 
“Switch me,” You suggest softly, followed by an even lower, disgruntled noise from Joel, “—Joel, come on.”
Joel feels that distant ache in his bones, the soreness in his hands from the damage they caused, he groans with the movement, but even louder with the way you sink back down onto him once he’s settled against the mattress, hands fisted into his shirt and rumpling it up his stomach, revealing a few inches of soft skin, grinding down against him until he’s nearly writhing. His mouth opens slightly, ready to say something you didn’t want to hear.
You offer a soft shhh, eyes focused on the lines of his face, beautiful with age and scrunched up in pleasure, eyes closed as he settles into the feeling of you again, “Stay with me,” You jeer quietly, a soft giggle settling on the surface as you smile, ever so slightly, ”‘can you do that?”
Sometimes it feels like an impossible feat, but Joel grips you a little tighter, pulls you in ever the more closer and the slick of your body feels so goddamn good, he doesn’t even realize his thought breached his lips before your breath is hot against his ear, his mind battling the thoughts buried under the surface and every filthy thing he could blurt out in the moment, he’s so tense with anticipation, “Stop thinking so hard, Joel. You’re home. Safe.”
And for once, he gives in. A long, hard fought battle that succumbs to his own exhaustion, allowing the kinder touches, the intimate glances between two people, almost like your fingertips were grazing each other’s souls. It’s felt intense before, but this moment is sharp around the edges and Joel knows what you need to hear. He’s fought it for a while, trying to right his wrongs, remind himself still, that he didn’t deserve you. He’s done fighting.
“Just need you, darlin’.” He admits gruffly, lips sliding against each other in a messy, lazy attempt at a kiss, “Always know just what to do.”
In other words, you could read Joel like a book.
And in the few years you’ve known him, you were hoping that was the case, considering the level of intimacy you’ve reached. Joel comes with a tired, drawn out groan that pierces you deep, and you’re right there—right there, before Joel is flipping you over with little fight on your end, sucking on your clit with a ferocity that doesn’t let up, coming with a shout as you grip his hair at the root, riding out the extent of your climax against his mouth as he eased you into your sated state of exhaustion.
The comedown is heavy, long, extended bouts of silence as you two try to catch your breath, slow your pounding hearts and Joel, at some point, finds his way higher up your body, his head laying against your chest, just underneath your breasts and it's an easy position to rub your fingers into his hair, along the planes of his face. He'd never admit it, but this is his favorite part. The after.
For you, it was everything.
"I want you around more often," Joel says quietly, like a whisper, "—m'tired of worrying about you when you're not around."
It almost makes you think you slipped into some sort of fugue state, not believing that the Joel Miller had said anything remotely close to a confession. But, then again, he surprised you every day. And you knew he couldn't ask you outright, not now, maybe not ever.
But, you'd settle for this.
"I'm not going anywhere, Joel." You promise, "You've always got me to come home too."
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