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from-the-clouds · 2 years ago

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texas sun - joel miller x f! reader - vol. vi

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chapter summary: you grow closer with sarah, and also with joel... pairing: pre-outbreak!joel miller x f!reader words: 5.2k chapter warnings: SMUT, 18+ ONLY - oral sex (m receiving). alcohol consumption. Some angst, but mostly fluff, references to divorces/getting remarried/stepparents. anxious thoughts. a/n: this chapter is probably the least heavy. s/o to @ay0nha for letting me yell at you about it, as always. lots of character/relationship/backstory for both joel and reader. i give reader a childhood nickname in this story, but it's not her actual name. also i made up a backstory for joel because he deserves it. hope you enjoy!

-June 5th, 2003-

“I think you missed a spot.”

“Yeah, that’s because you won’t hold still.”

Sarah scolds you for what feels like the hundredth time since you sat down. You feel a bit like a rambunctious child, and not so much a grown woman who has over fifteen years on her with the way she’s talking to you. To keep from giggling, you press your lips together tightly.

“You’re the one who begged to do this.”

“I did not,” she says, lacing mock offense into her voice – even with her head tilted down so you can’t see her mouth, you can tell she’s smiling.

Sarah’s bent over your kitchen table, across from you, holding your thumb between two of her fingers. Meticulously, she’s painting a layer of pink, glittery polish on your nails. It’s been awhile since you started, and the near-suffocating chemical fumes of acetone and nail polish had grown so intense you’d already made her turn on the fan and open the window above your sink. It wasn’t really helping. And she’s got her face so close to your hand – laser focused – you’re a little concerned she’s going to poke herself in the eye. But you don’t dare correct her. This is a weekly ritual. Every Thursday night, you give each other manicures. It’s far more important to her, however.

“Oh my god, relax your fingers, you’re so rigid,” she reprimands you again.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize, a bit sheepish. You’ve been anxious, the energy having worked its way out to all your extremities, apparently.

To be fair, you could do without this. You’ve never really cared about having your nails done growing up, and still don’t. They’ll look good for about two to three business days, and then they’ll chip. It’s always this way, regardless of what topcoat she puts on that claims it will make your nails last forever – maybe you’re just too rough with your hands. However, it’s the one thing Sarah doesn’t give you grief about, maybe because hers always chip, too.

You keep letting her do it, though. Partly because she likes it so much – and it hasn’t gotten any easier to say no to her. The other part is reminded of what it’s like to be a kid again. When you were first sent away to school, you always kept your nails painted - a small act of rebellion, of self-expression after being forced into the same uniform day after day. When you’d come home on breaks you’d beg your brother to paint his nails, run down the hall after him with a bottle of polish. Vincent would never let you, but he would always find a compromise, which was usually a walk through Central Park, and paying for you to ride on the carousel. He’d stand off to the side, waving each time you passed. In those moments, you liked to pretend that things were normal, that there wasn’t a dark cloud lingering over you both. Because even then, you’d known. On the walk home, Vincent would let you hook your mittened hand in the crook of his elbow, and you’d tilt your head all the way back to look at the tops of the buildings, the sun poking through the clouds.

Sarah draws back from your hand, then releases it delicately to the tabletop, placing the brush back in the nail polish bottle. “There,” she says, screwing on the lid. You both lean forward to admire her work. “I’m getting better aren’t, I?”

“You definitely are,” you look at the obnoxious color – Aurora Berry-alis. It’s the exact opposite of anything you’d pick out for yourself, but you’ve been surprised at the compliments you’ve been getting at work from your coworkers whenever you are going over contracts or pointing out revisions. If anything, you think it might make them pay closer attention when you talk. You nod at Sarah appreciatively. “They look good.”

“I think you’re getting better, too,” she places her hands atop the table alongside yours, so you can compare. You’d painted hers the same color, because you always let her choose. Well, it’s less that you let her, and more that she tells you, and you know better than to argue. The first time she’d painted them, and you’d suggested a coat of clear, she had given you so much grief about how boring you were, that you had given in and let her do whatever she’d wanted. There is nothing more terrifying than a teenage girl thinking you are lame.

“It’s always easier to paint someone else’s,” you answer.

Sarah leans forward, and frowns when her eyes land on your thumbnail, the one with the scab at the base of it. “You really need to stop picking at your cuticles.”

“I can’t help it,” you say sheepishly. “It’s a bad habit.” Particularly when stressed, you want to add, but you keep it to yourself.

“Well, it needs to stop,” she says pointedly, before planting her hands on the table and standing up. “I’m gonna get a ginger ale. Do you want me to get you anything?”

“Yeah, grab me one, too,” you blow on your fingers so they dry faster.

Sarah disappears behind you, and you hear her rummaging through your fridge. “Do you not eat? Your fridge is basically empty.”

It’s only when she mentions it that you recall. “I do, I just forgot to go to the store this weekend.”

“How do you forget to buy food for yourself?”

“I’ve been busy.”

Sarah groans, and a few of your cabinets open and slam shut. “There’s no food here.”

“Oh my god,” you laugh. “I pretty much only buy stuff for you anyways, at this rate you might as well start chipping in on the grocery bill.”

“You sound like my dad.”

At the mention of Joel, you stiffen.

Things have been a bit of a blur for the past few weeks. Between both of your work schedules, it’s been difficult to see one another, and even when you’re free – it has to be when Sarah’s away, which doesn’t happen often. And if she’s not in her own house, the second most likely place for her to be is at yours – so that makes it even more complicated. And both of you have agreed that she can’t find out. Because of that, you’ve only seen Joel a handful of times.

“How is he?” you ask, nonchalantly. It’s a question you have asked her a hundred times before, just like you’ve asked after her best friend from school, Jennifer, or her grandparents, her Uncle Tommy – anyone from her life she talks about regularly. For some reason, you’re still expecting Sarah to hear these three words and sense that you’re not telling her something.

“He’s good,” she says, rustling through boxes. “Busy.”

Yeah….busy. You could laugh when you think of the absurdity of the situation as a whole. There’s not a chapter in any of your self-help books that could teach you how to properly navigate it. So you’re left to figure it out for yourself, and hope you can without inflicting any permanent damage on her psyche.

It makes you kind of nauseous actually. You knew her first. You were closer with her, first. It feels like a betrayal – and you’ve done enough of that in your life. This was supposed to be a way to start over, to do the right thing, but the sickness follows wherever you go. You can’t stop it. What would happen if she found out? Would she be angry, mad, disgusted? She likes you, but as far as she knows, you aren’t romantically involved with her father. And that would certainly change things.

Where it really gets problematic – you like Joel. So much more than you had expected. Well, maybe you’d been expecting it a little but not….like this. Of course, you know better than to be hopeful. Everything is still tentative, new. You’re figuring it out. It’s nice, at least, to savor the feeling while you have it, because it’s something you have felt so rarely.

All that considered, keeping it from her objectively is the right thing to do – for now. At least, that’s how you justify it to yourself.

“Actually he, uh, has been on a coupla dates lately,” Sarah returns to sit with a bag of stale Doritos and two ginger ales

“Really?” you ask, quirking an eyebrow, pretending this is new information.

Sarah nods, and is careful to open both cans with the tip of a butter knife she brought over, so as not to chip her freshly painted nails. She speaks so nonchalantly, there’s no way she suspects anything.

You test the waters. “How do you feel about that?”

“What are you, my guidance counselor?”

You laugh first, and then she joins in, delighted by her clever joke. Once it fades, she surprises you by sobering up, quickly. “But uh….I don’t feel any way about it…I usually don’t care unless he introduces me to whoever he’s with.”

“Oh yeah,” you say. “I remember when my dad did that. Always weird, right?”

“Always,” she repeats, sounding relieved that you understand. “But it doesn’t happen often. I think he’s careful. But things have just never felt….right. With any of them.”

“What, like, they weren’t nice?”

“No, just….I could tell they didn’t really care…” she says. “About me….”

You want to tell her that’s not true. But you’d only be speaking for yourself, and this isn’t about you.

“What about you?” she asks, and you realize you’ve been frowning. “Did you get along with your dad’s girlfriends when you first met them?”

“I mean, it wasn’t so much a meeting as it was my father introducing us and saying ‘Pixie, Meredith is going to be your stepmother,' and then that was that."

“Your stepmother’s name was really Meredith?” Sarah asks incredulously. “Like in The Parent Trap?”

You consider this, the realization hitting. “Yeah, I guess so,” and you both laugh.

“Oh boy,” Sarah says. “Stepmom? If my dad gets remarried, I think…things would change…”

“How so?”

“What if she hates me? And then dad stops spending time with me? What if he has another kid, and they forget about me?” She pauses, but not long enough for you to shut it down without interrupting. “I mean, tell me what happened with your stepmom. Did you become an afterthought? ”

“Uh, well….” you wrinkle your nose. “I mean, yeah, but I was never exactly a priority to begin with.”

To you, it’s such a casual statement of fact, so at first, you’re not sure why Sarah looks so distraught by the response. “Oh, I- I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to….” Her shoulders sag, just a little.

“Oh,” you wave your hand dismissively. “It’s fine. I’m fine. What I’m trying to say is from everything you’ve told me about your dad, and everything I know myself –” which is more than you think “– he would never let that happen.”

“Yeah, I know, I know,” she says, bobbing her head. “But I can’t help but think about it.”

“Those are just thoughts…” you offer. And you’re no longer even approaching this conversation with the context of being the woman who is with Joel. You just want to make her feel better. “Doesn’t mean they’ll come true.”

It seems to placate her. “Yeah. You’re right,” she nods, and takes a sip from her ginger ale. “I do worry about my dad, though. It’s just the two of us, and I know he gets lonely. And who knows, maybe someday he’ll end with someone I actually like. That could be fun,” Sarah smiles a little. “So long as they don’t boss me around.”

“Boss you around?” you ask, taking a sip from your own can and raising your eyebrows. “I wish them the best.”

“Shut up,” she says, then giggles. “But also…fair point.”

Suddenly, you sit up from where you’d been leaning back into the wood of your kitchen chair. And it seems like as good a time as ever to change the subject, because you’ve far overstayed your welcome lingering. “Oh, by the way, before I forget…stay right there, I have something for you.”

“What? What is it?”

You rise from your seat, and walk a few paces to the basket in the corner of the room. “You’ve got that camping trip coming up soon, and it gets chilly at night….” You dig through your knitting materials until you find what you’re looking for. Once you do, you place it in front of Sarah on the tabletop.

“What? No way!” she exclaims, picking up the baby blue knit cap in front of her. “You knitted me a hat?”

“Yeah,” you say, a bit sheepishly. “I meant to wrap it but-”

“It’s so cute,” Sarah cuts you off. “Can I try it on?”

“Of course, it’s yours.”

She jumps up from her seat and saunters to the mirror that hangs above the credenza just inside your front door. You follow her, standing behind her as she tugs the hat over her head. “What do you think?”

“Here,” you murmur, reaching over her shoulder to brush a piece of hair from her eyes, tucking it under the beanie, and pulling it further down in the back so it covers her ears as intended. Then you both look in the mirror. “I like it. Do you like it?”

“Yes,” she says, incredulous. “I can’t believe you made this for me.”

“I’ve hardly been knitting lately because it is so hot here. And you’ve been talking about how excited you are for this trip since I met you, so…it only felt right.”

Sarah whirls around quickly to wrap you in a hug, and you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror behind her – arm across the back of the pink hoodie she’s wearing. There’s a vague sense of longing in your expression, and you wonder what it might have been like to have someone in your life who could have given you the things your parents never did. Maybe there’s still a way to right all the wrongs. And not just for yourself.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

-June 6th, 2003-

“Come in!”

You’re closing the oven when you hear the knock on your screen door. It slams shut, and you peer through the entrance of your kitchen to the front foyer – just to make sure you haven’t invited an axe murderer into your home.

The concern is fleeting, because you see it’s just Joel, bent over, untying his work boots and slipping them off. You like to think of yourself as easygoing, but you don’t allow him to wear them inside the house. All it took was some side eye the last time he’d tracked dirt all over your clean carpets, and then you never had to ask him again. But really, it was a minor inconvenience compared to some of the shit your past boyfriends had pulled. For example, this past year you actually had to utter the sentence ‘I don’t want you stashing your coke in my underwear drawer’ out loud to a grown man. So, even if the bar was so low you could step over it – and hardly bend a knee – it was something you had learned to appreciate about him.

You’ve made a roasted whole chicken – which is surprisingly easy, and mostly involves root vegetables and a lot of butter. Then it just cooks in the oven. It’s sort of your go-to when you actually decide to cook, but it’s too much food for one person. But you like that if you make it at the beginning of the week, you can eat leftovers for several days after. You hope Joel will appreciate it – not that you are trying to impress him, well, who are you kidding? You definitely are. It’s just one of those things you are ashamed to admit to yourself.

You turn to the sink, pulling off the yellow rubber gloves you’d bought to wash dishes in – in an effort to preserve your manicure. “Hey,” you say, when you hear his footsteps shuffling behind you.

“Hey,” Joel answers, and before you can turn, his lips are on your cheek, his hand on your shoulder, and he takes in the scene of your kitchen. “Would you like some help?”

“I’m good,” you look around. It was maybe a little messy, but the dishes were soaking and all you have to do is wipe off the countertops. It tends to happen when you cook. You’re not great at mise en place. Still, you have a system, and it works for you, and it stresses you out to have helpers in the kitchen. “Everything’s in the oven already.”

Turning finally, you take Joel all the way. He looks tired. Shoulders slumped, hair mussed. You reach out, pull a piece of sawdust out from one of his waves, flick it into the sink. “Why don’t you go sit in the front room?” you ask him. “I’ll be in, just give me a second.”

He’s been busy, putting in extra hour into his first contracting gig, and it appears it’s starting to take its toll.

“Okay,” he nods, hesitant, stepping back.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Joel settles onto your couch with his hands over his face. He’s upset with himself. For as much as he likes you, he’s barely seen you since your first date – and tonight, the one night he gets the chance, he’s utterly spent.

He rubs his eyes, looks towards your record player in the corner of the room, some melancholy jazz playing over the speakers. In the kitchen, dishes clink together, and a cabinet shuts lightly. Joel lets his head loll back against the plush cushions of your couch, savoring the only peace he’s felt all day.

“Dinner’s almost ready,” your voice cuts in, and Joel doesn’t know how you had snuck up on him, but when he peers up at you, standing over him, you’re holding out a frosted tumbler.

The floral apron you’d been wearing when he first came in is gone, so he sees more clearly the blush button-down you’ve paired with khaki slacks. Your hair is clipped back from your face, reading glasses on your head. He thinks of your coworkers who get to see you looking like this everyday, and gets a little envious. “What’s this?”

“A drink,” you say. “I thought you might need one.”

“Is it that obvious?” He feels a little guilty that it’s so clear to you what’s wrong, and you’ve barely spoken yet. Despite everything, Joel can’t help but feel warm, accepting the beverage graciously. The thin layer of ice coating the outside of the drink melts the second his fingers wrap around it, brushing against your own.

“Only a little,” you give him a soft smile before clinking glasses.

It’s some kind of whiskey, served over ice and it’s fucking good. It goes down far too easy, and he immediately takes another pull. You settle next to him while he does, but not so close that you’re touching. Joel is no stranger to how tentative you are with him, still. But he likes you regardless. He’s holding something fickle in his palm, and he understands he’d better hold still so as not to break it.

“Long day?” you ask, and reach out to trace your knuckle up his arm absentmindedly.

“Yeah,” Joel murmurs. “Things just keep goin’ wrong.”

“And you’re the problem solver now?”

“Something like that,” Joel says. You’d already drilled him about the ins and outs of his job awhile back. Being a contractor, while it’s a step up from his last job, and makes him more money – is much more demanding. People actually answer to him, now.

“I’m sorry…that sounds stressful,” you empathize. “I’m sure you’ll get a handle on it soon enough.”

Joel nods. Even if his brain has been telling him otherwise, he’s inclined to believe you.

Carefully – but not at all hesitantly, you reach out, hand curling around the back of his neck. Its the same one you’d been using to hold your glass so it’s comfortingly cool against his skin – still heated from a day spent under the sun. Joel feels his heart rate pick up as you move in closer. When your lips connect with his own, the kiss is gentle, affectionate. A proper greeting.

A flash of something, white hot, swipes up the sides of his neck, into his face. He’s a little embarrassed at the effect your touch has on him. Everything is still so new. And he’s hardly gotten the time alone with you to get it out of your system.

You deepen the kiss, it becomes deeper, more sensual, and he feels the switch flip. Almost as though you can sense his arousal, your hand slips down, swiftly unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans. Your mouth never leaves his, you never pull away to look down, and he’s hard by the time you cup him through his underwear. And he’s still so taken aback he can’t stifle the noise he makes – directly into your mouth.

Your fingers hook through his belt loops to shuck his pants and underwear down, and the comfort of your body pressed against him disappears. Blinking open his eyes, he reaches out to pull you back. “What are you-” he cuts himself off when he sees you kneeling between his parted knees.

In response, your hands plant high on his thighs. “What does it look like?” you ask, your chin tilting back, eyes glimmering.

Oh.

“May I?” So polite, considering the offer.

Joel nods wordlessly, and he watches you lean forward. His eyes squeeze shut right before you take him in your mouth – because he knows if he doesn’t ease his way into this, he won’t last.

You don’t waste time teasing or kissing or anything like that. You’re not gonna drag things out. Maybe it’s because dinner’s in the oven and your time is limited, or maybe this is just how you are.

He aches, and in one go, you wrap your mouth around him and take him as deep as you can, he feels your throat constrict when you can’t go any further. Then, you do it again, again. It goes on that way, until he’s coated with saliva and the slide of your lips up and down the length of him feels as soft as the silk of your shirt, which he’s unintentionally fisting, trying to hold back.

Your hands squeeze his thighs, massaging them gently while you work diligently. It’s fast, but not so fast he can’t enjoy himself. Sloppy, but he prefers it that way. It’s perfect. He thinks you’re fucking perfect.

He decides he has to see you, watch you, and leans back to take you in more fully. One of his hands rises to slip under your chin, angles your face so your eyes lock with his own. “Look at me,” he says, a little press to get you to engage. He’s learning how to push you– just enough to get what he needs without scaring you away. And he’s rewarded when you moan around him, the vibration around his cock only bringing him closer to release.

“Such a sweet girl,” he murmurs, and you groan again at the praise – he relishes in how well he’s getting to know you, learning what gets you off – in the short time you’ve been together. “You look so pretty with your mouth full.”

Then he moves his hand to sift into your hair, collecting it gently at your nape so it stays out of the way, and he can gently guide you along.

You pull off him for a moment, your breathing ragged, lips swollen and wet. You look so good, out of breath and overworked all just to please him. And you don’t relinquish all contact, your hand replacing, your mouth so you can jerking him off, twisting slightly at the top and letting your thumb run over the head of his cock. “You work so hard, Joel,” you mumble. “Just want to take care of you.”

“Fuck,” he growls at the words. Words he’ll remember on nights when you aren’t lying next to him in bed. He’s got to hold out a little longer, just to see what else you might say.

It’s all you offer, though, because you wrap your lips around him once more.

He’s getting close. It wasn’t going to take much to begin with – but it’s the first time you’ve ever gone down on him, it’s been a long day, everything is compiling together to make him feel hotter and hotter, the pressure at the apex of his thighs reaching its precipice. One of your hands leaves his thighs to cup his balls, the other working the part of him your mouth doesn’t reach. He loses all his composure, his head falling back as his hips roll forward, choked sounding phrases leaving him. “Keep going, baby – just like that– so fucking good–”

You obey, because of course you do, and before he knows it – he’s coming, hard. You don’t pull back at all, just swallow him down as he pulses down your throat.

Joel covers his face with his hands and tries to steady his breathing, thoroughly spent. He’s fucking hungry, still, but at this rate, he may fall asleep soon. Warm palms land on his chest. For a moment, he’d nearly forgotten where he was.

“You good?” he opens his eyes to find you hovering over him, amusement in your expression.

“Yeah, yeah.” He chuckles, reaches out. “You can’t be fucking real,” he murmurs softly, hand on your cheek.

“Oh,” You pull back to retrieve your drink and take a sip. “I’m very real.”

“Come here.” He rasps, pulling you forward into a kiss.

When he attempts to deepen it, you pull back slightly. “Hey, uh…dinner’s gonna be ready any minute.”

“Oh?” Joel asks.

“Yeah,” you nod. “And I’m actually….well I’m actually kind of proud of it, so maybe we shouldn’t get too distracted.”

“Really?” Joel settles on pulling you against his chest, and you settle there easily. He’s hit in these moments with the awe that you let him this close, that you’re willing to do even more for him, you already have. “Sarah told me you can’t cook.”

“What?” you say incredulously, your head lifting off his chest. “That’s not true. I can, I just don’t.”

“You seemed to know what you’re doing.”

“I do,” you say confidently, then grimace. “Well, I mean, I can follow a recipe.”

Joel laughs. “I’m sure it’ll be good.” Your head goes back against his chest. He’s careful not to disturb you too much when he reaches for the remainder of his whiskey. “What is this?”

“Dunno,” and instead of reaching out for your own glass, you bring the hand that holds his own down to your lips to take a sip. He strokes your hair, watches you. “Bourbon.”

“It’s good,” Joel says, and drinks again. He wants to down the glass, then steal from yours like you did to him, but it tastes expensive.

You continue on. “A client gave it to me today for some pro-bono work I did. It’s probably meant to be served neat, but….it’s too hot for that.”

“Nice of you to help them out.”

You make a noise of affirmation, almost dismissive, and Joel continues on. “I should be doing more of that sort of thing.”

“It’s alright,” you shrug.

“You know I…..” you trail off for a minute, like you’re trying to decide if you want to share something with him. “All I do is work for corporations all day. I have to be kind of….manipulative? Self-serving. It’s a little exhausting. It’s nice when I can use my skills to actually help people, you know?”

“Can’t really picture you being manipulative,” Joel let’s his thumb graze over your cheek.

He thinks you might laugh, but instead you pull back, your expression unreadable. It’s easy to see that you’re studying him carefully, and he strokes your arm, giving you the space to continue. “You should know I haven’t always been the best person, Joel. No one has ever really looked out for me, so….” you trail off. “But I’ve been trying. To be better.”

You say it like you’re not convinced. Like you’ve been told it’ll never be possible. Joel gazes tucks your hair behind your ear reverently. “Wherever you’re at right now,” he says. “Is plenty good for me.”

“Yeah well,” your eyes flicker away – maybe it was too much. “Helps that I’ve been spending all my time with you and Sarah.” You smile gently, then change the subject. “Did you see, she did my nails?”

Joel looks down at your hands.

“What do you think?” you ask.

“They’re very….pink.”

“They are.”

Joel is thankful that Sarah has an outlet that’s not himself for something like this. He tries to imagine what it would be like to show up at work with his nails painted, and knows that he’d get shit for the rest of his life. “Better you than me, I guess.”

“Don’t give me any ideas.”

He laughs.

“Where is Sarah, tonight, anyways?” you ask Joel.

“My parents take her out for dinner at the end of every school year,” Joel says.

“Oh,” you seem a little surprised by the mention of his parents. “Do they live nearby?”

“Not too far,” Joel says. “About an hour and a half drive out of the city, close to Fredericksburg. They’re on a ranch….out in the sticks.”

“Is that where you grew up?”

“Yeah,” he can’t help but smile to himself. “It’s different now, but….my parents owned a strawberry patch.”

“Are you serious?”

It seems like a different lifetime ago, but Joel still remembers it all so vividly. The busy spring season, visitors from the city flocking to his family’s little farm in the middle of nowhere to pick the ripe fruit straight from the vine. His father had taught him how to mend fences and keep the pests away, and his mother taught him how to tend to the plants, to prune and nurture. “Yeah.”

“Yeah.” Joel shakes his head, continuing to recall. “Tommy and I would always try to sneak as many strawberries as we could without our parents noticing,” Joel recalls. “And then inevitably eat so many he’d make himself sick, then we’d both get in trouble.”

“Oh my god,” you shake your head in disbelief. “This doesn’t sound real. I need photos.”

“I have them…somewhere,” Joel says, and he’s sure they’re buried in a box in the back of his closet.

“It sounds so…idyllic,” you say, shaking your head. Joel had never thought much of it. Of course, when you’re a kid, your perspective is so narrow. Maybe he didn't realize how good he had it, and he supposes, to the right person, it might sound like a lie. It dawns on him that you're both so fundamentally different, but it doesn't feel that way.

A timer dings in the other room.

“That’s the oven,” you say, shifting away from him and standing up. You offer him your hand to help him off the couch, and he bats it away, buttoning up his jeans before joining you. “Let’s eat.”

Joel realizes that all the stress from the day has melted off, and he can’t even remember what exactly had him so flustered earlier. Right now, everything feels alright.

---

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Writer Spotlight: Elise Hu

We recently met with Elise Hu (@elisegoeseast) to discuss her illuminating title, Flawless—Lessons in Looks and Culture from the K-Beauty Capital. Elise is a journalist, podcaster, and media start-up founder. She’s the host of TED Talks Daily and host-at-large at NPR, where she spent nearly a decade as a reporter. As an international correspondent, she has reported stories from more than a dozen countries and opened NPR’s first-ever Seoul bureau in 2015. Previously, Elise helped found The Texas Tribune, a nonprofit digital start-up, after stops at many stations as a television news reporter. Her journalism work has won the national Edward R. Murrow and duPont Columbia awards, among others. An honors graduate of the University of Missouri School of Journalism, she lives in Los Angeles.

Can you begin by telling us a little bit about how Flawless came to be and what made you want to write about K-beauty?

It’s my unfinished business from my time in Seoul. Especially in the last year I spent living in Korea, I was constantly chasing the latest geopolitical headlines (namely, North Korean leader Kim Jong Un’s big moves that year). It meant I didn’t get to delve into my nagging frustrations of feeling second-class as an Asian woman in Korea and the under-reported experiences of South Korean women at the time. They were staging record-setting women’s rights rallies during my time abroad in response to a stark gender divide in Korea. It is one of the world’s most influential countries (and the 10th largest economy) and ranks shockingly low on gender equality metrics. That imbalance really shows up in what’s expected of how women should look and behave. Flawless explores the intersection of gender politics and beauty standards.

Flawless punctuates reportage with life writing, anchoring the research within your subjective context as someone who lived in the middle of it but also had an outside eye on it. Was this a conscious decision before you began writing?

I planned to have fewer of my personal stories in the book, actually. Originally, I wanted to be embedded with South Korean women and girls who would illustrate the social issues I was investigating, but I wound up being the narrative thread because of the pandemic. The lockdowns and two years of long, mandatory quarantines in South Korea meant that traveling there and staying for a while to report and build on-the-ground relationships was nearly impossible. I also have three small children in LA, so the embedding plan was scuttled real fast.

One of the central questions the book asks of globalized society at large, corporations, and various communities is, “What is beauty for?” How has your response to this question changed while producing Flawless?

I think I’ve gotten simultaneously more optimistic and cynical about it. More cynical in that the more I researched beauty, the more I understood physical beauty as a class performance—humans have long used it to get into rooms—more power in relationships, social communities, economically, or all of the above at once. And, as a class performance, those with the most resources usually have the most access to doing the work it takes (spending the money) to look the part, which is marginalizing for everyone else and keeps lower classes in a cycle of wanting and reaching. On the flip side, I’m more optimistic about what beauty is for, in that I have learned to separate beauty from appearance: I think of beauty in the way I think about love or truth, these universal—and largely spiritual—ideas that we all seek, that feed our souls. And that’s a way to frame beauty that isn’t tied in with overt consumerism or having to modify ourselves at all.

This is your first book—has anything surprised you in the publishing or publicity process for Flawless?

I was most surprised by how much I enjoyed recording my own audiobook! I felt most in flow and joyful doing that more than anything else. Each sentence I read aloud was exactly the way I heard it in my head when I wrote it, which is such a privilege to have been able to do as an author.

Do you have a favorite reaction from a reader?

I don’t know if it’s the favorite, but recency bias is a factor—I just got a DM this week from a woman writing about how the book helped put into words so much of what she felt and experienced, despite the fact she is not ethnically Korean, or in Korea, which is the setting of most of the book. It means a lot to me that reporting or art can connect us and illuminate shared experiences…in this case, learning to be more embodied and okay with however we look.

As a writer, journalist, and mother—how did you practice self-care when juggling work commitments, social life, and the creative processes of writing and editing?

I juggled by relying on my loved ones. I don’t think self-care can exist without caring for one another, and that means asking people in our circles for help. A lot of boba dates, long walks, laughter-filled phone calls, and random weekend trips really got me through the arduous project of book writing (more painful than childbirth, emotionally speaking).

What is your writing routine like, and how did the process differ from your other reporting work? Did you pick up any habits that you’ve held on to?

My book writing routine was very meandering, whereas my broadcast reporting and writing are quite linear. I have tight deadlines for news, so it’s wham, bam, and the piece is out. With the book, I had two years to turn in a manuscript. I spent the year of lockdowns in “incubation mode,” where I consumed a lot of books, white papers, articles, and some films and podcasts, just taking in a lot of ideas to see where they might collide with each other and raise questions worth reporting on, letting them swim around in the swamp of my brain. When I was ready to write, I had a freelance editor, the indefatigable Carrie Frye, break my book outline into chunks so I could focus on smaller objectives and specific deadlines. Chunking the book so it didn’t seem like such a massive undertaking helped a lot. As for the writing, I never got to do a writer’s retreat or some idyllic cabin getaway to write. I wrote in the in-between moments—a one or two hour window when I had a break from the TED conference (which I attend every year as a TED host) or in those moments after the kids’ bedtime and before my own. One good habit I got into was getting away from my computer at midday. I’m really good about making lunch dates or going for a run to break up the monotony of staring at my screen all day long.

What’s good advice you’ve received about journalism that you would pass on to anyone just starting out?

All good reporting comes from great questions. Start with a clear question you seek to answer in your story, project, or book, and stay true to it and your quest to answer it. Once you are clear on what the thing is about, you won’t risk wandering too far from your focal point.

Thanks to Elise for answering our questions! You can follow her over at @elisegoeseast and check out her book Flawless here!

#writer spotlight #elise hu #flawless #k-beauty #beauty #beauty industry #feminism #gender politics #seoul #south korea #journalism #writing advice #reportage #flawlessthebook

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cowgurrrl · 9 months ago

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I Wish I Was

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

Author’s note: yay for creative energy coming back!!

Summary: Murphy’s Law dictates… [3.1k]

Warnings: art talk, discussions of a deceased parent, probably incorrect blueprint talk, a cliff hanger 😈

Temperatures rarely dip below the thirties in Central Texas. It's not impossible, as evidenced by the below-freezing temperatures ravaging much of the South in the final days before returning to school, but it's still rare. Nobody really knows what to do when there's the threat of the roads icing over, so they just decide to shut most things down, including your bar. You feigned disappointment when your manager called to tell you when, in reality, you were digging through your box of acrylic paints to find the one shade that's been calling your name. With the sudden free time, you get to work on your half-finished canvases and listen to the same record repeatedly in the hopes that your brain will zone out enough for you to make something good.

It could be The Mamas and The Papas record spinning or the dark blue winter light shining through your blinds, but you actually like the piece of art unfolding on your canvas. It's undeniably different, a little more vibrant and a little more abstract, but it feels good— sustainable, at the very least. You feel less self-conscious about them and even snap pictures to show them off to Andie. You've finished three other canvases and sent in images of them to a local art collective that takes gallery submissions twice a year, and they've moved you on to the next part of the acceptance process. It's not a definite yes, but it's not an immediate no. You haven't told Joel about the submission or anything, really. You've just holed yourself up in your apartment to paint and sporadically respond to his texts with lots of apologies typed with yellow or purple fingertips.

He knows you're not ignoring him, and you know he's a busy guy. He has better things to do than sit around and wait for you to text him back, but you feel bad about not being as present as you were before. "It's all part of the process, I promise," you said. "Then, when I get my own gallery, you can hear all about it while you fix up my classroom." He reminded you that "pride goeth before the fall" but didn't doubt or pressure you to break your flow. The only thing he consistently texts you about is making sure you're drinking water, stretching your wrists, and, at least, looking at a vegetable during your long sessions. Otherwise, he leaves you alone to work. Everyone else, including the stack of looming emails in your inbox, gets deliberately ignored so you can live in your bubble for just a little longer before school drags you back into session.

That's why you jumped and furrowed your eyebrows at your ringing phone when his contact photo appeared unexpectedly, breaking you out of your concentration. You wipe your hands on your old pair of too-big jeans (universally known as your work pants because they're covered in different colored hand prints) and swipe to answer him before the silly picture of him with one of your scarves on his head can go away. You hear him shuffling around when you put it on speaker and almost hang up, thinking it's a butt dial before you finally hear his voice.

"Hello?" He greets.

"Hey, what's up?"

"Did I leave my jacket there?" He asks. You let out a relieved sigh that it's nothing too dramatic, but the lingering panic his phone call caused sits in the back of your head as you glance down at said jacket. You adjust the palette in your hand, suddenly hyper-aware of the wet paint and thanking whatever God is out there for not getting any on his clothes. You can't imagine things would go over well with the guys if he suddenly showed up to job sites with pink paint on the sleeve of his jacket.

"No..." you say, extending the vowel, and he chuckles.

"Do me a favor. See if there's a ring of keys in the front pocket?" He says. You gently put the palette on your coffee table and wipe your hands again to ensure there's no wet paint on them before digging into both front pockets and feeling the keys in his left pocket. You pull them out and find the set of keys with a baseball keychain and a keychain with a picture of him and the girls on it.

"I've got 'em," you say. "The Astros? Really?"

"D'you mind bringin' 'em to the office? I forgot I needed 'em." He ignores your jab, and you look down at your outfit. Clad in your work pants, a sports bra, Joel's Carhartt jacket, and your unwashed hair in a clip, you are not prepared to leave the house today, let alone go see Joel.

"Um..."

"Somethin' wrong?" He asks, and you wince. What are you gonna say? Sorry, I know you have to do your job and all, but I look and feel like shit, so I can't bring your keys to you? He's already seen you in disarray from the school day, but that was a cuter, more socially acceptable version of disarray. This version gives credence to the messy, mentally ill artist stereotype Freud introduced however many years ago.

"No, nothing's wrong. I just..." you sigh and rub your face. "I wasn't expecting to see you today. I kinda look crazy."

"That's it?" He asks, and you can hear the smile in his voice. "Baby, I don't care how you look. You could show up in a potato sack, and I wouldn't care."

"Well, lucky for you, I don't own a potato sack, but I'm pretty sure that would look better than this."

"If it makes you feel better, the office is empty."

"Then, why are you in? It's fucking freezing."

"I needed to make sure the pipes didn't freeze over, and I left some blueprints here," he says. "I can grab 'em from you and just come back to the office."

"No, I don't want you driving more than you have to," you say, already stretching out your stiff legs. Your knees creak in protest, and fatigue seeps into your bones. God, how long have you been sitting here? "Just don't say I didn't warn you."

"I think it'll take a lot more than some messy clothes to scare me off, darlin'," he says, and you roll your eyes at his charm. With a quick goodbye, you throw on a clean enough sweater and leggings. You debate running a brush through your hair before remembering what he said about the empty office and decide you don't have the energy. If he really doesn't care what you look like, then you're not going to stress about it.

You're a little worried about driving in the weather, even you aren't immune to Southern weather panic, but the roadways are mostly clear, and things aren't expected to get really bad until later on. Still, you drive slowly and white-knuckle the wheel against strong, frigid winds. By the time you get to Joel's office, the sky is more grey than blue, and radio announcers warn you that there might be flurries within the next forty-eight hours. You doubt they'll stick to the ground and amount to nothing more than some black ice, inconveniencing everyone in the state, but still. You leave the relative warmth of your car and walk as fast as you can into the building, clutching Joel's jacket close to your body and sending a wave of his smell over you.

The office itself is small, with a couple of desks here and there, mostly for meeting with clients and explaining building plans. A coffee pot and water cooler sit in the corner next to the receptionist's desk, which is currently empty. It's eerily quiet in the space except for the sound of the heat rumbling somewhere in the walls, and you almost wonder if Joel left without telling you when you hear grumbling and the tell-tale sound of his boots against the tile. He doesn't notice you at first. Instead, he scowls at a paper like it owes him money and mutters under his breath. Whatever is annoying him is wiped away the second he sees you there.

"Hey, baby," he lights up as he walks over to you and kisses you, abandoning the paper on one of the desks so he can hold you close. He tastes like coffee and the beeswax chapstick Ellie got him for Christmas. You didn't realize how much you missed him until now, and you smile against his lips. "You got my keys?" He asks as he turns to walk into his office, grabbing your hand and bringing you with him. He lets go of you to close the door behind him, and you dig the keys out of your pocket and toss them at him. He catches them in mid-air easily and walks over to the filing cabinet.

"You intentionally leave your keys with me, or is this just a happy accident?" You ask, and he smirks.

"Maybe I just wanted to see you again."

"Sneaky," you say as you walk around his space while he searches for the correct blueprint.

It's a relatively normal office with eggshell walls and bad fluorescent lighting, but once you step behind his desk, you get a good idea of the man who works here. His desk is old and made of some type of wood he probably knows more about than you do. It's filled with little knick-knacks and things that get him through the day: family pictures, a painted gecko from Terlingua, stress balls, and a desk calendar with his all-caps handwriting. There are even some drawings done by Ellie pinned on the corkboard behind his chair, her skill visibly improving as she gets older.

One particular picture on his desk catches your eye. It's older than the rest, and it takes you a minute to recognize Joel's eyes in the greying man. Joel, Tommy, and their dad smile at the camera with identical grins. Tommy can't be older than ten while Joel towers over them both, his broad shoulders taking up lots of space. You pick it up to look at it closer and Joel doesn't stop you. Instead, he comes up behind you and wraps his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder.

"'S this your dad?" you ask, and he nods. "You guys look a lot alike."

"You think?" He asks like he doesn't see it, and you look at him. You take a second or two to let your eyes trace his features and compare them to his dad's before nodding.

"Yeah. Same eyes," you say as you look back down. "And smile." He hums happily at that. Joel's face hasn't changed much now that he's a grown man. If anything, he looks more like his dad, with the grey at the temples and the beard framing his face. You see bits of their father in Tommy, too, but you assume he probably looks more like their mother. "How old were you in this?"

"Mm, fifteen? Maybe sixteen." Right before his dad died, you think. You wonder if he's thinking the same thing or reliving the day over again. Before the clutches of grief can sink you both, you smile to yourself and hold the picture a little closer.

"I would've been obsessed with you if we'd gone to high school together."

"Really?" He asks incredulously, and you giggle at the thought.

"Oh, for sure. Look at you!" You point to his little broody half-smile as if it's evidence. "Those eyes, that hair, the attitude. I mean, c'mon, Joel!" He laughs at your praise and takes the photo out of your hands.

"Alright, alright, that's enough objectification for teenage Joel."

"I'm not objectifying you! I'm just stating the obvious."

"Mhm," he hums, and you laugh. You continue walking around and looking at his things as he frowns at the blueprint he trekked through the cold to get. "Shit." He mumbles, reaches for a pencil, and scribbles something on the plans.

"What's wrong?" You ask, perching yourself on the edge of his desk and leaning over to look at the intricate design. It looks like a big house with lots of elaborate details written on the margins. It's a big build. No wonder he needed to get this copy.

"This client decided they wanted a bigger kitchen, but I don't know how to do that without eatin' into another room and changin' the whole plan," he sighs. "We're supposed to be back on the site once this storm blows over, and I gotta have an idea of how we're gonna do this by then."

"Can't you just tell them no?" You ask, and he chuckles.

"Can’t you just tell your principal no?

"Point taken," you say. "What about pushing it into the backyard a little? Then you could use this area over here to make a sunroom or something," you suggest, gesturing to the weird leftover space that would make the house look wonky. His eyebrows knit together as he thinks.

"Then what should I do here?" He asks. Together, you go back and forth, discussing dimensions, perspectives, and measurements. You never realized how similar these designs are to art. They have to have more of a purpose and fit specific parameters, but other than that, they have the same idea: create something out of nothing. It's cool to see Joel in his own element, doing mental math and estimates that would take you ages to do and writing down his findings as you figure them out together. He's not just good at math, he's good at sketching the new designs.

Almost seamlessly, he flips through the floor plans and layouts, adding a window there or changing the flow of a room with a singular erasure. He adds the perfect depth to see the idea clearly without crowding the space and making it seem too busy, allowing the clients to picture their furniture in the home. When you bring up an idea, he's quick to rotate the plans upside down to imagine how it would look and if it would impact the building process, his brain running through every possible solution and flipping it without even thinking. Ellie does the same thing when she gets stuck on a drawing. You see where she gets her skill from, even if he'll never admit it.

For someone who has always struggled with math, you enjoy the balance between math, engineering, and art in the plans, but you like working with Joel the most. It's nice to feel like you're helping instead of distracting him. You're not sure how long you worked together, reconfiguring things this way and that, before you finally reached a viable solution, but you know that Joel has the biggest smile on his face when he looks away from the blueprints.

"You mighta missed a callin', my dear." He says, and you laugh, shaking your head.

"My college algebra professor might disagree, but I do think this is interesting."

"Well, if you ever want a job..." he trails off as he rolls the blueprints back up and secures it with a rubber band. You smirk and tug at his belt loops to bring him closer to where you're sitting on his desk.

"You just want me to get more tattoos." You accuse, and he chuckles as he tosses the prints somewhere behind you, his hands coming up to frame your face.

"I'm just sayin', Miller Contracting don't have a policy against it like the school district does."

"Mm, what about dating? That might get a little dicey."

"Is sleepin' with your boss better or worse than sleepin' with a student's parent?" He asks, and you laugh.

"They're probably in the same realm of bad."

"Then, we've got nothin' to lose." He says as he leans down to kiss you. You open your legs just enough for him to step in between your knees and get as close as he can. He's trimmed his beard since the last time you saw him, but the stubble still scratches deliciously against your skin, making you sigh. He breaks away enough to tip you back onto his desk, narrowly missing his clutter, and you giggle when he kisses your neck.

"How long have you been plannin' this one?" you ask, your years in Texas showing through in your breathless voice. He smiles as he meets your eyes.

"I dunno what you're talkin' bout."

"Oh, so getting me alone and on top of your desk was just a coincidence?"

"Happy accident." He muses, sliding his hands up your shirt as he gets lower and lower. Your hands play with his hair, occasionally tugging on the strands just to hear the sound he makes. You would've been happy to do that all day if your phone ringing through the suddenly too-warm air of his office didn't interrupt. Joel groans and drops his head to your sternum, his hands pausing their journey up your body as you wiggle your phone out of your back pocket. Your heart drops the second you recognize the phone number.

"Who is it?" Joel asks like he's reading your mind. You sit up slowly, and he takes his hands off you without malice or frustration. You're stuck staring at the number until it disappears off your screen and goes to voicemail.

"Um... someone from work. I should probably call them back." You say, unsure of yourself as the words fall from your mouth. Joel looks confused but doesn't push.

"Oh. Right, yeah. School starts back up on Monday, right?"

"Yeah, she probably just wants to talk about lesson plans or something," you say, standing from your spot on the desk. The air has changed between you, and suddenly, things feel clunky and awkward. This is the worst possible timing. "Can I call you later?"

"Yeah, of course. I'll walk you out." He says sheepishly. You don't say anything as he opens the doors for you and gives you a quick kiss and a reminder to text him when you get home. You just nod and immediately speed walk to your car even though you're not that cold. Joel watches you pull out from your parking spot and leave the strip mall, waving before you can turn out of sight.

You wait until you're five minutes down the road before you dial the number back as if Joel would be able to hear the crackly voice through your speaker if you were any closer. Your heart beats fast in your chest, and your palms are sweaty on the wheel as the phone rings. When the dial tone finally ends, and your call is answered, the anxiety is replaced with frustration.

"What’s up?" You ask through gritted teeth, and you hear her take a breath.

"We need to talk about Ellie’s dad."

TAGLIST: @abbyhaslongshorts @kiwiharrykiwi @sumsworldz @myloveistoolittle @anavatazes @marantha @cosmoscoffeee @shyminnie07 @beezusvreeland @eddiemunsonsbedroom @harriedandharassed @doodlebob-mp3 @ignorethisplz2004 @buckyispunk @d1lf-loverrr @vee-bees-blog @moel-jiller @anoverwhelmingdin @casssiopeia @maried01 @acupofhollie

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liberalsarecool · 2 years ago

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25 years of 'thoughts and prayers'.

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Kelly Elementary School

Marinette High School

Aurora Central High School

Millard South High School

Martinsville West Middle School

Worthing High School

Millard South High School

Highlands Intermediate School

Cape Fear High School

Chardon High School

Episcopal School of Jacksonville

Oikos University

Hamilton High School

Perry Hall School

Normal Community High School

University of South Alabama

Banner Academy South

University of Southern California

Sandy Hook Elementary School

Apostolic Revival Center Christian School

Taft Union High School

Osborn High School

Stevens Institute of Business and Arts

Hazard Community and Technical College

Chicago State University

Lone Star College-North

Cesar Chavez High School

Price Middle School

University of Central Florida

New River Community College

Grambling State University

Massachusetts Institute of Technology

Ossie Ware Mitchell Middle School

Ronald E McNair Discovery Academy

North Panola High School

Carver High School

Agape Christian Academy

Sparks Middle School

North Carolina A&T State University

Stephenson High School

Brashear High School

West Orange High School

Arapahoe High School

Edison High School

Liberty Technology Magnet High School

Hillhouse High School

Berrendo Middle School

Purdue University

South Carolina State University

Los Angeles Valley College

Charles F Brush High School

University of Southern California

Georgia Regents University

Academy of Knowledge Preschool

Benjamin Banneker High School

D H Conley High School

East English Village Preparatory Academy

Paine College

Georgia Gwinnett College

John F Kennedy High School

Seattle Pacific University

Reynolds High School

Indiana State University

Albemarle High School

Fern Creek Traditional High School

Langston Hughes High School

Marysville Pilchuck High School

Florida State University

Miami Carol City High School

Rogers State University

Rosemary Anderson High School

Wisconsin Lutheran High School

Frederick High School

Tenaya Middle School

Bethune-Cookman University

Pershing Elementary School

Wayne Community College

JB Martin Middle School

Southwestern Classical Academy

Savannah State University

Harrisburg High School

Umpqua Community College

Northern Arizona University

Texas Southern University

Tennessee State University

Winston-Salem State University

Mojave High School

Lawrence Central High School

Franklin High School

Muskegon Heights High School

Independence High School

Madison High School

Antigo High School

University of California-Los Angeles

Jeremiah Burke High School

Alpine High School

Townville Elementary School

Vigor High School

Linden McKinley STEM Academy

June Jordan High School for Equity

Union Middle School

Mueller Park Junior High School

West Liberty-Salem High School

University of Washington

King City High School

North Park Elementary School

North Lake College

Freeman High School

Mattoon High School

Rancho Tehama Elementary School

Aztec High School

Wake Forest University

Italy High School

NET Charter High School

Marshall County High School

Sal Castro Middle School

Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School

Great Mills High School

Central Michigan University

Huffman High School

Frederick Douglass High School

Forest High School

Highland High School

Dixon High School

Santa Fe High School

Noblesville West Middle School

University of North Carolina Charlotte

STEM School Highlands Ranch

Edgewood High School

Palm Beach Central High School

Providence Career & Technical Academy

Fairley High School (school bus)

Canyon Springs High School

Dennis Intermediate School

Florida International University

Central Elementary School

Cascade Middle School

Davidson High School

Prairie View A & M University

Altascocita High School

Central Academy of Excellence

Cleveland High School

Robert E Lee High School

Cheyenne South High School

Grambling State University

Blountsville Elementary School

Holmes County, Mississippi (school bus)

Prescott High School

College of the Mainland

Wynbrooke Elementary School

UNC Charlotte

Riverview Florida (school bus)

Second Chance High School

Carman-Ainsworth High School

Williwaw Elementary School

Monroe Clark Middle School

Central Catholic High School

Jeanette High School

Eastern Hills High School

DeAnza High School

Ridgway High School

Reginald F Lewis High School

Saugus High School

Pleasantville High School

Waukesha South High School

Oshkosh High School

Catholic Academy of New Haven

Bellaire High School

North Crowley High School

McAuliffe Elementary School

South Oak Cliff High School

Texas A&M University-Commerce

Sonora High School

Western Illinois University

Oxford High School

Bridgewater University

Robb Elementary School

Michigan State University

Covenant Christian School

TBA

***feel free to copy and paste, then share ****

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thebiggerbear · 2 months ago

Text

Misc Fic Recs List

Rec List under Read More:

Rough Around the Edges by @lila-lou - Jack's day couldn’t have gotten any worse. Exhausted from a grueling shift under the scorching sun, he just wanted to crash at home with some wings and a football game. But his plans for a quiet night were shattered when the racket from his new neighbor echoed through the walls. (Jack Durfy x Reader)

A Home and A Heart by @winchesterwild78 (Jack Durfy x Reader)

Georgia Peach by @stxrrylunatic - You are a local journalist for the Oklahoman covering the multiple twister converge over central Oklahoma. Crossing paths with the adrenaline chasing and charming Tyler Owens was not in your agenda. Long story short: He finds you to be the sweetest peach in town. (Tyler Owens x Reader)

Y/N adjusted her leather jacket, tugging at the collar in a futile attempt to shake off the nerves... by @reaper2187 (Jessica Rabbit x Reader)

Blinding Love by @brummiereader - Soon to be divorced and co-parenting with the notorious leader of the Peaky Blinders was never going to be a breeze. But when a number of unanswered calls and a string of dead bodies surface in your attempts to move on, you gain the attention of a detective and the pressing matter of his colleagues whereabouts, with whom you had spent one evening on a date with. Promising you witness protection in return for the evidence he was sure you had on his sole suspect, your husband. Your future is left in the balance when Tommy’s paranoia and inability to let you go makes itself known as your codependency continues to show no signs of surrendering. Will you let yourself be free of the man whose love for you has consumed him? Do you even want to be? (Thomas Shelby x Reader)

Family business by @cheynovak - After a long day at work, Jack Durfy comes home stressed from the weight of running the family construction business and dealing with his irresponsible brother. His wife, Y/N, tries to soothe him, offering to help with the business and take some of the burden off his shoulders. (Jack Durfy x Reader)

Only you by @cheynovak - Y/N, is the daughter of James an ex-marine who fell in love with a Belgian woman Sophie, they raised their kids in Brussels, Y/N and her twin brother Matthias moved to Texas after leaving the special forces in Belgium, Y/N witnessed her partner and fiancé gets killed in a secret operation, she has trouble following orders after that, so they let her go with honourable discharge. Dealing with the loss of her fiancé, made her decide to move out of the country, leaving her starting fresh in the US. (Cordell Walker x Reader)

Preludes by KameTerra - Raphael and April had never spent much time together… but as their newfound friendship deepens, both are unprepared for what it brings. Prequel to "Bound." 2003/2007 verse blend. (Raphael x April) [FanfictionNet]

Bound by KameTerra - Friendship, family, love, and honor are the binding forces of life. But when life gets messy, some bonds sever too easily while others seem to hold you too tight. (Raphael x April) [FanfictionNet]

Interludes by KameTerra - A set of short sketches highlighting some of the more light-hearted aspects of Raph & April's relationship within the storyline of Bound. Eight: Love is in the air…even more so than usual. (Raphael x April) [FanfictionNet]

Fortitude by @xx-ingie-xx - Nearly fifteen years after Ocarina of Time, Link and Zelda struggle to preserve political peace after their controversial marriage. But when disaster strikes, Zelda finds herself facing far more than political turmoil… (Zelda x Link) [FanfictionNet]

Forgotten by @xx-ingie-xx - A sequel to Fortitude. (Zelda x Link) [FanfictionNet]

Stay With Me by leoslady4ever & Deathsembrace137 - Lucy had never considered a love with Laxus, until the day he died saving her life. Now, he haunts her thoughts with dreams of what might have been, and unable to move forward, she finds herself going back, learning everything she can about the man who, out of love, gave his life for her. Soon she realizes, his one sided love, may not be so one sided after all. (Laxus x Lucy) [FanfictionNet]

Abducton by prettylilah - Goliath is supposed to meet Elisa at her place, but when she arrives, she finds an imposter waiting in the dark! Rated for future chapters, picks up after Hunter's Moon pt.3. (Goliath x Elisa) [FanfictionNet]

Game, Set, and Match by Firebird9 - How does one small but determined cat manage to defeat a police detective and a gargoyle? (Goliath x Elisa) [FanfictionNet]

in front of the children by smartalker - Gray and Lucy watch porn. And take notes. (Gray x Lucy) [FanfictionNet]

Jail Bait by x.Miss.Attention.Span.x - I hate you, I hate you, I love you…". She cringed as the last three words slipped out of her mouth. (Buffy x Faith) [FanfictionNet]

Unspoken Rules by @winchesterwild78 (Character x Reader)

Not A Monster by Cyndi - Peach sees an entirely different side of Bowser when a routine kidnapping is interrupted by Junior falling ill. (Peach x Bowser) [AO3]

Danceverse Series by Cyndi - The unlikely love story of a human woman and an alien robot destined to belong to each other. (Optimus x Mikaela) [AO3] (*personal note: every one of the works in this series is amazing but Lines is my personal favorite, it's the one I started with way back and got hooked onto this 'verse)

We Are The Same by IridescentEuphoria - They were stood in the ruins of their relationship, that had only begun to build, when Eve walked away from her and broke both their hearts. Little did she know Villanelle had planned all of this to save her life. (Villanelle x Eve) [AO3]

The Price of Pleasure by mydeira - Dawn's night with Spike isn't all it seems. (Dawn x Spike) [AO3]

*I will add more as I go

dividers by @firefly-graphics

#fanfiction recs #fanfic recs #fic recs

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kremlin · 9 months ago

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helicopter hog hunting right next to that guy (in the town i live in lol) is also really expensive but I wanna do it once i get my degree. they let you full auto belts through an m240 from the skies

man i can almost guarantee you the cost is from the helicopter and the machine gun. anything to do with a helicopter is involved as hell and frankly i'm keen to leave them the fuck alone, i would literally fly a small cessna solo with zero instruction solely relying on my Nerd Ass Flight Simulator skills but never a helicopter. they work in direct defiance of gods will

not having to load a whole mag for 4 seconds of fun doesn't rly offset the whole "$60 of ammo gone in a flash" thing for me. esp. these days

right after i got out of school i worked this really shit remediation job and one of the guys in my crew was this Giant Cornfed Redneck motherfucker who had a bunch of land in central texas with a hog problem, he wanted to start a business doing hog hunting trips & i made him a website or some shit and he took me out. i think the conversation actually started with a dick measuring contest about the guns we owned, he was trying to tell me hogs mean business and 9mm won't cut it. "sure ill bring my AK", he told me itd better be an AKM since 5x45 won't cut it. thought he was bullshitting but nooooope

kinda sucked in the end. me and him did not have much in common (natch) and i do not like to traverse terrain by foot because of wet + hot + gross + computer programmer. there could be a disclaimer here for the tumblr crowd saying "ohhh hogz are so bad, they are invasive, they are extremely destructive, they are nasty creatures" which is all true but i was there from blood lust from computer games

the pack we found, we didn't scout, we heard them fucking barreling towards us, which is when it kinda sunk in, in my mind, "oh wow, this is extremely dangerous, this is frightening, those are huge animals, they are very fast, they are certainly trying to kill me, this is actually gay, wtf". i took an embarrassing amount of shots for hits i landed due to Shaky Hands which never heard the end of for the weekend (city slicker).

they are no fucking joke though, i swear, bullets would either bounce off them or they'd shrug them off, they would never ever seem to stop charging unless you shot limbs off or they lost a puzzling amount of blood. my pal wanted to cook them but he cut one open and it was literally pure blue on the inside which is the effect of some kind of poison the state uses to thin their populations safely while conveying message of "DO NOT EAT" to corpse-finders

to be honest i prefer the computer room. it was scary enough but the worst was laying down to go to bed like "i killed a bunch of mammals today", "those things had brains, thoughts" which ive never shaken off.

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critical-skeptic · 2 months ago

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Understanding the Southern Perimeter’s Republican Lean: A Multi-Factor Analysis

The political landscape of the United States is often discussed in terms of blue and red states, with certain regions consistently leaning Republican or Democrat. However, the southern perimeter of the continental U.S.—stretching from California to Florida—presents a unique case study. Despite cultural diversity, varying industries, and demographic shifts, this region generally leans Republican. This alignment, which includes border states with Mexico and those along the Gulf Coast, emerges from a complex interplay of geography, economics, historical values, and cultural attitudes.

1. Geographical and Climatic Influences

The southern perimeter is defined by its warmer climates, which attract specific demographics, most notably retirees. States like Florida have become retirement havens, drawing older populations from traditionally Democratic northern regions. This migration brings a demographic that often prioritizes conservative values such as lower taxes, property rights, and fiscal conservatism, aligning well with Republican ideologies. The subtropical to desert-like climate also shapes industries in these states, favoring agriculture, tourism, and energy sectors that lean conservative due to their reliance on limited government intervention and favorable regulatory policies.

Additionally, the shape and layout of these states play a role. California’s extensive north-south reach and diverse climate foster a mix of political ideologies, making it more complex, though its highly populated coastal cities tend toward Democratic dominance. By contrast, Arizona and Texas, with expansive rural and desert regions along the border, amplify conservative values centered on self-reliance and individualism, often associated with frontier mentality.

2. Historical and Cultural Factors

Southern states, including those on the southern perimeter, have a strong cultural legacy of conservatism rooted in a combination of frontier independence, skepticism of federal oversight, and a tradition of states’ rights. This tradition resonates with Republican ideology, which emphasizes limited government, individual liberties, and a cautious approach to social change. While California may stand as an exception due to its urban liberal hubs, the states from Texas through Florida reflect this traditional conservatism that has persisted over decades, reinforced by political institutions and local values.

Texas, in particular, embodies this “frontier spirit.” The state’s long history as a republic, combined with its emphasis on rugged individualism and suspicion of centralized power, aligns with Republican principles. Arizona, with its substantial rural population and similar desert environment, mirrors this mindset. The “frontier mentality” persists in these areas, where local culture values autonomy and self-reliance—traits that naturally dovetail with conservative ideologies.

3. Economics and Industry Patterns

Economic structures in these states contribute heavily to their conservative leanings. Texas, for example, is a major oil producer, while Florida’s economy is driven by tourism and agriculture. These industries often thrive under conservative economic policies, which typically favor deregulation, low taxes, and minimal government interference. Republican economic policies are seen as beneficial by stakeholders in these sectors, making the party an appealing choice for many business owners and workers.

Moreover, certain industries in these states feel the impact of immigration more directly, leading to support for stricter border policies and a more conservative stance on national security. Agriculture and construction in Arizona, Texas, and Florida rely heavily on immigrant labor but also face challenges from undocumented immigration, shaping local attitudes toward Republican policies that prioritize border enforcement and immigration control.

4. Proximity to the Mexican Border and the “Diversity Paradox”

For border states like Texas and Arizona, proximity to Mexico brings border security and immigration issues to the forefront of local politics. This isn’t just about geographical closeness; it’s about the daily reality of cross-border dynamics that influence attitudes toward national security, cultural integration, and economic impacts. The southern perimeter’s conservative alignment is often reinforced by a sense of “us vs. them,” a cultural boundary that shapes perceptions of national identity and sovereignty.

Counterintuitively, the high diversity in these border states does not automatically translate to liberal leanings. Instead, the influx of new populations can sometimes trigger a conservative backlash, as local communities respond to perceived cultural and economic shifts. This “diversity paradox” suggests that in some cases, increasing diversity can actually entrench conservative ideologies as groups seek to preserve traditional values in the face of demographic changes. California and New Mexico differ here, as both have deeply rooted Hispanic and Native American populations that pre-date current immigration concerns, leading to a multicultural identity that integrates rather than reacts to diversity.

5. Rural-Urban Divide and Population Distribution

The rural-urban divide is a significant factor in understanding Republican dominance in the southern perimeter states. Urban centers in Texas (Austin, Houston, and Dallas), Arizona (Phoenix), and Florida (Miami) tend to lean Democratic, but the vast rural areas and smaller towns remain conservative strongholds. Given that these rural and suburban regions often have disproportionate legislative influence due to gerrymandering and districting practices, Republican preferences are amplified politically.

In these rural areas, the appeal of Republican ideology is tied to a distrust of federal intervention and a commitment to traditional social values. The conservative emphasis on “law and order” and the right to bear arms resonates with rural populations who prioritize self-sufficiency and often feel culturally alienated from urban liberalism. This dynamic creates a political landscape where urban and rural values clash, but the rural-dominated districts sustain Republican influence at state and federal levels.

6. Geopolitical Significance and National Policy

Border security, immigration, and national security are not merely abstract political issues in the southern perimeter states; they are local realities. The Republican party’s stance on border control and immigration resonates with communities directly impacted by these policies. For residents in states like Texas and Arizona, issues of border security are personal and immediate, influencing their political alignment. The southern perimeter’s exposure to these cross-border dynamics fuels support for policies that emphasize strict immigration enforcement, contributing to the region’s Republican leanings.

Furthermore, the high visibility of national debates on immigration and security in these states places them in a unique geopolitical position. Residents of the southern perimeter often view federal immigration policies through the lens of local impact, which can heighten conservative stances on enforcement and sovereignty, particularly during times of political polarization on these issues.

The southern perimeter’s Republican alignment, spanning from California to Florida, is a product of interwoven geographical, economic, cultural, and historical factors. From the lure of warm climates drawing conservative-leaning demographics to the economic structures that benefit from conservative policies, each element reinforces the region’s political leanings. The combination of rural influence, frontier mentality, and proximity to the Mexican border creates a unique political identity that sustains Republican dominance.

While California and New Mexico serve as exceptions due to their own unique geographic and cultural compositions, the southern perimeter as a whole demonstrates the impact of physical geography and local demographics on political identity. This analysis underscores how politics in border states cannot be reduced to simple assumptions about diversity or proximity to Mexico; instead, it is the product of complex, localized dynamics that shape conservative values and Republican support across the region.

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