#california lanyards

[californialanyards]

Introducing our premium Nickel-Plated Steel Loose Leaf Binder Rings - the ultimate accessory for a myriad of organizational needs!

[jadeannbyrne]

Walgreens: Plan B for When Plan A is Live Streaming

Walgreens: Plan B for When Plan A is Live Streaming On Saturday, August 31st, I clocked out of Walgreens for the final time, closing a chapter that started in April 2018. For 6.5 years, Walgreens was there—my safety net, my “Plan B for Plan B”—whenever the demands of streaming, creative projects, and on-screen time got too hectic. It wasn’t just a job; it became part of my rhythm. But let me be…

[mysunshinetemptress]

She is Heaven

Leah Williamson x Cowgirl!reader

Warning:Heaven is out of reach and you can’t blame anyone else but yourself

The roar of the crowd at the CMA festival was almost drowned out by the pounding of your heart. You'd never been to Nashville, never been further east than South Dakota, but here you were, all because of Mitch and his rodeo star girlfriend, Dakota. You shuffled through the throngs of cowboy hats and rhinestones laughing at locals trying to fit into the cowboy narrative, the air thick with the sweet tang of barbecue and spilled beer.

Mitch had given you your pass to the VIP section just behind the sound desk, flashing your lanyard you walked up the steps letting out a breath you didn't even realise you were holding in, you turned looking at the other people that had gathered in the section your eyes flicking around for Mitch or Dakota when your eyes landed on a small group of women laughing before turning as Mitch placed his hand on your shoulder "Hey, you good Oakley." you turned fully facing him "Yeah all good." Mitch had been calling you Oakley as long as you could remember refusing to call you Y/n, you were Oakley to him only to him after Annie Oakley a famous female gunslinger.

You were broken from the conversation by the sound of the three women walking past you and exiting the VIP section, your ears seemed to prick up at the sound of the unfamiliar accent, but the world seemed to go quiet as the taller girl turned her blue eyes catching your greenish gold ones.

"My God she's gorgeous." you thought to yourself.

The festival was in full swing and you were sipping a beer talking to Mitch about his upcoming rodeo gig in California when you felt a tap on your shoulder, You met the same blue eyes you had locked with a short while ago before your eyes drifted to her lips as she started talking "Hi, would you mind taking a photo of us please." You handed Mitch your beer wiping your suddenly sweaty hands in your jeans before reaching for the phone in her hand mumbling out a small sure.

"Alright saw cheese." you smiled at the screen as the three women wrapped their arms around eachother saying a loud cheese as they smiled for the photo.

You smiled at the taller girl as she said a soft thank you taking the phone before you began speaking, your Montana twang thick in the southern air, "that accent's somethin' else. Where you from?"

The woman smiled, a smile that could light up a rodeo arena. "England. I'm Leah." you outstretched your hand shaking hers "I'm Y/n."

Your knowledge of England extended as far as tea and the Queen, but Leah's accent, when she spoke to you, sent a shiver down your spine. It was melodic, a complete contrast to the twang you were used to. Hesitation warred with curiosity. You weren't exactly known for your social graces – you were more comfortable wrangling a stubborn steer than making small talk. But something about Leah propelled you forward.

"England, huh? That's a long way from Nashville." you drawled, trying to sound nonchalant despite the butterflies erupting in your stomach.

Leah, seemingly unfazed, laughed, a light, tinkling sound. "It certainly is," she admitted, her eyes sparkling. "I'm here with my Nan and cousin for the festival."

"Cool, that there is my best friend, Mitch, we're here to watch his girlfriend play it's her first major festival." Leah smiled "Wow, what's her name." God her accent was something else "Eh Dakota, Dakota Jones." Leah's eyes seemed to shine "No way, no way we love her."

A smile bloomed on your face, a genuine one that crinkled the corners of your eyes. Maybe Nashville wasn't so bad after all. "Well, you'll get to see her then, she's on next!" The music thrummed through the ground, a contagious beat that made you want to tap your boots. You glanced at Mitch, who was busy chatting with a group of cowboys, then back at Leah. "You guys should stick around, you might even get to meet her."

Leah's smile widened the kind that seemed to reach her eyes. "That would be amazing! Like I said we're huge fans." Her enthusiasm was infectious, and you found yourself wanting to share Dakota's success with them. "Come on, then," you said, gesturing towards the open chairs near Mitch. "Let's get you settled in for the show."

As you led them over, you stole a glance at Leah. The way the stage lights twinkled in her hair, the way her eyes sparkled with excitement – it was like something out of a dream. You weren't sure what it was, but there was definitely something about this English girl that made your heart skip a beat.

As you reached Mitch, you introduced Leah and her companions, a petite woman with a kind face who you assumed was her Nan, and a bubbly blonde you learned was her cousin, Jordan. Mitch, ever the charmer, greeted them with a southern drawl that had Leah and Lily giggling, "Don't mind him he's as southern as the state of Wyoming." Leah laughed at your little dig.

The conversation flowed easily, filled with questions about rodeo life from the wide-eyed English girls and tales of your Montana ranch from you. You found yourself captivated by Leah's stories of quaint villages 1000s of years old, a world far removed from your own.

"So what do you do for a living then?" You asked taking a swig of beer. "I play football," Leah answered nonchalantly with your eyebrows "Football, they have girls football in England." Leah laughed "Yeah like soccer, I play soccer only in England we call it football." Football? Soccer? You furrowed your brow, completely lost. "Like...kicking a ball around?"

Leah laughed again, a sound that was starting to feel dangerously intoxicating. "Something like that, yes. Though it's a bit more complex than that." She gestured towards the stage, where Dakota had just appeared on. "This is quite the experience, though. The music, the energy, it's electric."

But even as the crowd roared and the lights pulsed, you couldn't help but steal glances at Leah. There was a connection there, a spark that you couldn't quite explain. And as Dakota's powerful voice filled the arena, you knew this trip to Nashville, with all its twists and turns, was going to be one you wouldn't soon forget.

As the night began to draw to a close you found yourself feeling anxious over the thought of never seeing Leah again, "How long are you here for." Leah sighed "Not long I'm afraid we came just for this and i have to be back in England by the end of the week cause I'm heading into another England camp."

Your stomach clenched. A week. It felt like mere seconds since you'd locked eyes with Leah across the crowded VIP section, and already the thought of her leaving felt like a punch to the gut.

"England camp?" you repeated, hoping to buy yourself some time to process the information.

"Yeah," Leah explained, her smile dimming slightly. "I play for the national team. We have a big tournament coming up."

National team. Wow. You weren't sure what was more surprising – the fact that Leah was a world-class athlete, or the fact that you, a simple ranch girl from Montana, had managed to strike up a conversation with her.

"That's incredible, Leah," you managed to stammer, forcing a smile.

"Thanks," she replied, her gaze lingering on yours for a beat too long before glancing away.

You had only just met this girl, but the thought of her flying halfway across the world and never seeing her again felt earth-shattering.

An awkward silence descended, broken only by the faint sounds of roadies dismantling the stage and the distant chatter of departing festival-goers. You stole another glance at Leah, catching the flicker of disappointment in her eyes. Was she feeling the same way you were? A crazy, exhilarating hope bubbled up within you.

Mitch, sensing the shift in mood, nudged you playfully. "Well, Oakley," he drawled. "Looks like it's time for us to head back to the hotel. Long drive tomorrow."

You shot him a grateful look. Mitch always knew how to read a situation.

"Yeah, you're right," you agreed, standing up a little too abruptly.

As you said your goodbyes, Leah's hand lingered in yours a touch longer than was strictly necessary. Her blue eyes held a hint of something you couldn't quite decipher, a mix of sadness and a spark of something else entirely.

You stole another glance at Leah, hoping to catch her eye. Maybe, just maybe, there was a way to stay in touch. But her head was bent over her phone, fingers rapidly typing a message. Disappointment gnawed at you, but you forced it down.It wouldn't be fair to get ahead of yourself.

As you said your goodbyes, Leah's smile returned, a hint of something warmer in her eyes. "It was lovely meeting you,Y/n," she said, her voice dropping to a soft murmur. "And good luck to Dakota, she was amazing."

"Thanks, Leah," you replied, your voice thick with unspoken emotions. "You too. Enjoy your camp."

As you walked away with Mitch, a part of you ached with the thought of leaving Leah behind. Yet, another part, a more hopeful part, clung to the memory of her lingering gaze and the way her voice had softened when she spoke to you.

Maybe, just maybe, this wasn't goodbye. Maybe, despite the miles and the vast differences in your worlds, this Nashville encounter was just the beginning of something special.

Oh who were you kidding this was the closest you had ever gotten to heaven and you didn't even ask for her number to stay there even for just a short while longer.

[roosterforme]

How You Play the Game Part 1 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: When Bradley wins a box seat ticket for the first game of the World Series final, he doesn't think his day could get any better. But when he's given a seat in the press box by mistake, he meets a gorgeous sports writer from New York. And he has one of the best nights of his life.

Warnings: Swearing, fluff, and smut (18+)

Length: 6300 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x female reader

Check out my masterlist for more! How You Play the Game masterlist. Banner by @thedroneranger

Bradley was half asleep, sipping on his coffee while he drove to North Island from his house in the soft pre dawn light. He really hated these early training days that started at six o'clock and didn't end until after dinnertime. He'd be in the air all day, and then he'd probably be too tired to stay awake to watch game one of the World Series. 

Everyone on base was excited that the Padres were playing the Angels. A Southern California showdown for the ages. Tickets to game one in San Diego were selling for almost a thousand dollars per seat, but the sports radio host Bradley was listening to was giving them away.

Bradley yawned as the host asked, "Who was the first major league baseball player to pitch a ball over 100 miles per hour?"

"That's easy," Bradley mumbled. "Nolan Ryan." And then he realized that it was 5:30 in the morning and perhaps nobody else who was listening knew that fact. "Huh," he grunted, reaching for his phone at a red light. He dialed the number and was shocked when he got through to the host. 

"Good morning, caller! What's your name? Where are you from?"

"I'm Bradley. From Coronado."

"Do you have an answer for me, Bradley? Which major league player was the first to pitch over 100 miles per hour?"

"That would be Nolan Ryan."

"You sound confident in your baseball knowledge," the host replied. "Double or nothing? I'll upgrade your ticket to a seat in a box suite if you can tell me which team Ryan was pitching against."

Bradley smiled to himself as he pictured the boxes of his dad's old baseball cards that he still had in his garage. "He was pitching against the Chicago White Sox."

And just like that, Bradley was the proud owner of a suite ticket for game one of the World Series at Petco Park later that night. 

---------------------------

Your flight from New York to San Diego had been delayed so many times, you were a little surprised you managed to get to your hotel in your rental car and then make it to the game on time. At least you'd been able to start writing your article on the flight. Unless the game went into extra innings, you should be able to finish by your midnight deadline. Because if there was one thing the New York Times didn't mess around with, it was the hard cutoff for your submissions. 

As you made your way to the media entrance at Petco Park, you pulled out your lanyard with your credentials and looped it around your neck. As soon as someone learned that you were a sports writer for the most prestigious newspaper in the country, they were either impressed or they did a double take. You were a freshly thirty year old female with a ten year career in sports journalism, and you didn't take shit from any guys about it. 

In fact, you loved it when men tried to one up you. Because they never could. You knew more than they did about sports, you were an amazing writer, and you found pleasure in shutting them down. Preferably in front of their friends. And then they would inevitably try to ask you out. And you would shut that down, too. It was a game that you were very good at now. 

As you were scanned into the ballpark by a security officer, you quickly made your way up to your assigned press box. You expected the heavy hitters to be there. And of course you'd be the youngest, and probably one of just a few women in attendance. As you climbed the narrow stairs and swiped your badge one last time, you opened the door and strolled past a table filled with food and drinks. And then you saw them: Carl from ESPN, Jack from The Chicago Tribune, Harold from the Los Angeles Times, and Quincy from the Philadelphia Inquirer. You would keep your guard up, because it was just a matter of time before one of them made some sort of comment about your ability to do your job. 

The room was already filling up as you claimed a spot on one of the narrow counters where you could set up your computer and get to work. You removed your lanyard and tossed it next to your stuff, and then you waved to Raya from MSN Sports, the only other female in the room. When you turned to grab a drink and some food, you noticed the flash of a handsome face and a mustache. And then you stifled a scream as you saw and felt a plastic cup of cold beer meet your chest before soaking the front of you completely. 

"Oh, fuck!" came the deep, raspy voice of the most handsome man you could remember seeing in recent history as he stared at your chest. You supposed it was a fair trade, because you couldn't look away from his face no matter what you did. He was hot; all tan skin, brown eyes, and wavy, brown hair. And the blush that crept in and colored his cheeks made him look boyish as he glanced up to meet your eyes. "I'm so sorry!"

When he swallowed hard, and his eyes drifted down to your chest again, you looked down as well. Great. Your light blue lace bra was plainly visible through your white blouse, and the beer was even dripping onto your jeans and your new, white Chucks. 

You just shook your head and shrugged. "It's okay. Shit happens. But why did you bring a beer in here?" you asked. But he still looked so embarrassed and flustered, you decided to mess with him. "Who do you write for? I'll send them my laundry bill."

"Write?" he asked, and yep, that was confirmation that he had the sexiest voice you had ever heard. 

"Yeah," you said, feeling a little flustered yourself as you reached for some napkins to dab your shirt dry. "Tampa Bay Times? Boston Globe? Oh Lord, don't tell me you're from Barstool Sports. I don't recognize you, and I'm pretty sure I'd remember you." That was a lie; you would definitely have remembered him.

"No," he said, watching your every move. "I don't write."

You laughed as his gaze flicked up from your chest to your eyes when you looked up at him. "That explains the alcohol, then. But why are you in the press box? Did you get lost up here?"

He smirked at that. "No. I won a radio contest and got a seat in a box suite. But somehow my ticket got mixed up, and they sent me a media pass instead."

"Really?" you asked, eyeing him up and down now. "I had to pay for a four year journalism degree for my media pass, and you're going to tell me I could have just listened to the radio?"

His laugh was infectious and his smile made you a little giddy as he held out his hand to you. "I'm Bradley. I don't think I could manage to write an article about sports, even if I was getting paid to do it. You must be very talented." You preened a bit at his words as you shook his hand. "And I'm really sorry about the beer," he added, gesturing to your shirt. "I'd offer to get you a drink or dinner, but the food in here is free, and you're actually working. So, I'll just stand here like an idiot and keep shaking your hand and apologizing until you tell me your name and tell me to stop. I'm really sorry about your shirt." He was still shaking your hand, and now you couldn't stop smiling.

You told him your first name and then you said, "You can stop shaking my hand now, Bradley." 

"Let me grab you some water?" he asked, and when you nodded, he turned toward the bar in the far corner. And you took in his tall frame, broad shoulders and massive biceps which were highlighted by his Padres shirt. 

"Oh no," you whispered to yourself, still mindlessly dabbing your wet blouse with some napkins.

--------------------------

Bradley turned toward you with two water bottles, and thankfully this time he managed to keep the drinks in his hands. You were so fucking cute, and your wet shirt was doing crazy things to him. He couldn't stop smiling, and when you looked up at him and cautiously accepted your drink, you were smiling too. 

"Thanks for not drenching me again," you said, tapping your drink to his. And then Bradley heard an older guy call your name, and you turned in his direction. 

"Nice shirt," he shouted so everyone was suddenly looking your way. "That how you plan on getting an exclusive with one of the players? Sex sells now? I thought this was about the game."

Bradley was appalled that another journalist was talking to you like that, but before he could say that your wet shirt was actually his fault, you were shouting back at the guy.

"Harold, you couldn't even drag your sorry, old ass down to the field fast enough to get an exclusive with the mascot. I don't know how you're not retired or dead yet. Didn't you cover the 1922 World Series?"

Bradley watched Harold purse his lips at you before he turned away and took a seat. And when Bradley glanced down at you as you sipped your water, you looked completely unfazed. And he was ridiculously turned on.

"Damn, nobody should be messing with you," he said, thoroughly impressed. "You're an Ace."

You just rolled your eyes, but you looked very pleased by his words. He already knew he wanted to talk to you all night, but now you were setting your drink down next to your computer and opening it as you sat. "This is a boys club. Just a dick measuring contest. I can't let up for a second or I'll get steamrolled."

Bradley let his eyes dip down to your damp shirt as he asked, "I don't want to commit another beer related crime. You seem to know how this press box stuff works. Mind if I sit with you?"

"Not at all," you told him as you licked your lips. "As long as you don't spill anything else on me."

Bradley eased himself down on the stool next to yours, and his knee brushed your thigh. He watched you filling out a baseball stat sheet while you opened up a document on your computer. 

"So what was the trivia question?" you asked as you sipped your water again.

"Trivia question?" he murmured, watching your lips wrap around the rim of the bottle before you took a drink. 

"Yeah, isn't that how you won the pass? For the box seat? Even though you're slumming it with the journalists now?"

"I wouldn't call this slumming it," he said, eyeing your pretty face. "But yeah, they asked who was the first pitcher to throw a ball over 100 miles per hour."

"Oh. Nolan Ryan. Angels versus the White Sox. Nice," you said as you smiled at him. Fuck. You liked sports. You wrote about sports. You were gorgeous, and you knew more about sports than he did. Bradley let his mind drift to peeling off your damp, white shirt and licking the taste of beer off your chest while you moaned baseball stats and ran your fingers through his hair. He could definitely get into that. He briefly wondered if you were going to be at the next game here on Sunday.

And then you were keeping the game stats in your notebook at the same time you typed up notes, and Bradley realized he had missed the first few pitches. "Oof, that was a sloppy curveball," you muttered as you peered down at the field before checking the overhead screen. "He's supposed to be their Ace."

"Nah, you're the Ace," Bradley said, and you turned to grin at him as your fingers brushed against his. There was not a lot of room at this little countertop, and when you tried to nudge his arm out of the way, he wrapped it around the back of your stool. 

"How am I supposed to keep my stats with you taking up so much space?" you asked, but your tone sounded playful, and you leaned a little closer to him. "You're massive."

Those words spoken in your voice had his cock stirring. "Yeah well, not a lot I can do about that, Ace."

That grin was back as you tapped the end of your pencil against your lips, and his gaze followed the motion. "So what do you do, Bradley? I'm going to guess you're not a waiter since you can't walk without spilling drinks. And you're definitely not a writer."

"I'm a pilot. A naval aviator," he told you softly, running his thumb along your back and watching you bite your lip. 

"Fascinating," you told him before returning your attention back to the game and scribbling down the pitch count. And that's when Bradley's gaze landed on your badge which was sitting next to your computer. 

He recognized your full name immediately. "Holy shit. You write for the New York Times."

"Yeah," you replied, turning to look at him before pulling your lip between your teeth again.

"Ace. I recognize your name. You're the best sports writer in the country."

Bradley was blushing, he knew he must be, but your bright smile was focused on him, and he couldn't keep his fingertips from drawing lazy shapes along your back where his hand rested. 

"You know me?"

He nodded and raised an eyebrow at you. "You're famous. I read your articles all the time. I downloaded the New Your Times app solely for you."

When you laughed and gently bit the eraser end of your pencil, Bradley groaned. "You're funny," you told him.

"You're gorgeous." The words were out his mouth before he could stop himself. He thought about apologizing, but then you leaned in a little closer and ran your pencil eraser up his thigh along his jeans.

"Stop distracting me," you whispered, kissing his cheek before returning your attention to your computer. Your lips had brushed the end of his mustache, and he could still feel the soft sensation there as you gazed at him from the corner of your eyes. This was going to be a long night for Bradley.

--------------------------

Bradley had called you gorgeous. He was playful, and he kept a smile on your lips. When he made a comment about the Angels' catcher, you told him, "You're completely right. I'm adding that to my piece." And he blushed that deep shade of pink again. 

"Damn, Ace. I'll be thinking about your voice when I read your article tomorrow morning." 

"Mm," you hummed, marking down another strikeout. "It would be fun to read it to you. I think you'd blush. The whole time." 

His lips were parted, and he looked a little surprised. "It would be the filthiest of dirty talk," he muttered, and when you giggled, he grinned. 

You had to bite your lip against the desire to kiss his cheek again. "World Series articles and pitching stats? That's what's gonna do it for you, Bradley?"

"Shit, how dirty can you make those pitching stats?" he whispered, thumb still skimming along the back of your shirt.

"You'd be surprised," you told him, shooting him an innocent look as he nodded at you.

"I'm sure I would."

The more you scribbled down in your notebook as the game progressed, the closer Bradley got to you. His big palm was warm on your back and you found yourself leaning into him more and more. By the eighth inning, his leg was pressed up against yours and he just kept getting closer. 

"Ace, you're killing me," he murmured, taking your pencil and erasing the sloppy note you had written about the Padres relief pitcher. "Let me help."

You laughed as he rewrote your note very neatly followed by what you assumed was his phone number. Oh, he was a bold one. Very handsome, very funny and very bold. 

Without a word, he handed your pencil back to you. "What am I supposed to do with that?" you asked, tapping his phone number with the pencil.

His breath was warm on your cheek as he said, "Save it in your phone. Call it. Text it. Let it know when you're in San Diego. I don't know, Ace. I just like you."

Your lips parted right as the Padres catcher hit a home run, and as everyone else in the ballpark erupted in cheers or groans, Bradley pressed his lips softly to yours. And then you tossed your pencil aside and ran your hand up along his neck. His lips were soft, but damn, his mustache was rough and you liked it. 

You pulled back a few inches. "And if I text you, you're going to write back?" you asked. 

"Immediately," he promised. 

"Well then maybe I'll save your number."

He groaned softly as you marked down the home run. "Are you covering game two on Sunday?" he asked as the ninth inning started.

"I'm covering every game," you told him, letting your hand rest on his thigh. The soft noise he made had you scraping your fingernails softly along his jeans as he watched your hand instead of the game. "I'll be back and forth between San Diego and Los Angeles for the next two weeks or so, if they go to seven games. Which, in my professional opinion, they will." 

After your fingers grazed his zipper, you watched his head tip back, the veins in his neck working as he swallowed. You were pretty turned on now, too. And the way he was responding to you was making things worse by the minute. 

"I'm gonna have to drop a grand on a ticket to see you back here on Sunday, aren't I?" he asked as you shrugged and ran your finger along his belt loop. Then you released him and turned back to type a few sentences for your article. 

"Listen," you told him without looking at him. "There's no guarantee I'm even going to let you have my number, so I wouldn't worry about that just yet."

He was quiet for a beat as you typed away, and then he said, "How about you let me buy you a drink for real? Right after the game tonight?"

"I have a deadline to meet," you told him, and he looked disappointed as he nodded. "But my article is almost done. And my hotel is right across the street. We could go to the bar there?"

"Absolutely," he murmured, his fingers still at your back. "Anywhere you want."

As soon as the game ended with a Padres victory, you tossed your computer and notebook into your bag, and you were on your feet next to Bradley. "Let's get out of here." 

You took his big hand in yours, glancing up at him occasionally as you tried to beat most of the crowd to the exit. And each time, he was looking back at you, smiling. You led him across the parking lot, and your hotel was in sight when you pushed him up against the brick wall outside of the ballpark. Bradley welcomed your body against his, and he looked at you like he couldn't believe this was happening just before you kissed him.

It was dark over here, even the streetlights were dim. His hands were on your back as your fingers tangled in his hair, and you were rubbing yourself gently against him. 

"Ace," he grunted against your lips. "You gotta let me buy you that drink." 

You could feel him growing harder for you as you kissed him and tasted his tongue. Suddenly the hotel bar was the farthest thing from your mind. It had been replaced by thoughts of your hotel room bed instead. 

"Come on, Bradley," you whispered, linking your fingers with his and leading him further down the sidewalk. He went with you willingly, leaning down to kiss your cheek and your neck as you waited in a crowd of people for the light to change at the crosswalk. 

"You smell good. Like the beer I spilled on you," he groaned, holding you close. The movement of his lips had his mustache prickling your neck. You wanted to feel it on all your sensitive skin. You wanted to see if you could make him blush in bed. 

You and he stumbled across the street and into the hotel lobby where you eyed the bar as he wrapped his big hand around your waist. You looked up at him and asked, "Wanna skip the bar and go up to my room? Find out if I taste good like the beer, too?" 

The sound of Bradley's groan as his hand slid down to your butt had you pressing yourself against his thigh. "Lead the way, Ace."

--------------------------

The elevator ride to the top floor was filled with the sound of kissing as well as the little gasping noises you made. Your hands were at the fly of his jeans as he pushed you back against the wall and devoured your mouth. Bradley was so hard and ready for you, he was honestly surprised. He just met you. This was not a usual occurrence for him. 

"Bradley," you moaned, unbuttoning his jeans as the elevator jolted to a stop. You abandoned his jeans for his hand and pulled him down the hallway, running toward your room and laughing. You stopped in front of one of the doors and started to dig in your bag.

He stood behind you and ran his lips along your neck as you gasped for him. You were so responsive, stroking something deep down inside of Bradley every time you reacted to him. He wrapped his hands around to the front of your jeans and started to play with your button as well. When his fingers met the soft skin of your belly, your head tipped back against him. 

"I can't find my room key," you moaned as he ran his hands up inside your shirt. He watched as you gripped the bag with both hands and let your eyes drift closed. 

"You're not really trying very hard, Baby," he said with a smirk. He couldn't believe you right now. So pretty and so lost to his touch. He was throbbing and aching for you, too. 

"Because you're teasing me!" you complained with a laugh. But then you turned in his arms, and suddenly Bradley's hands were on your bare back. Your eyes were wide, bag clutched between your body and his. "This is... not something that I usually do. Especially not when I'm on the job." Your voice was soft, and as you nervously bit your lip, Bradley leaned down to kiss your cheek.

"Same, Ace," he promised with a smirk. "In fact, I've never had a woman seduce me this quickly before. You're irresistible."

Your laughter was the best thing he had ever heard. "I thought I was the one being seduced here?"

"No," he said, reaching into your bag and plucking out the key. "You're in charge." He handed it to you, and you wrapped your fingers around the back of his neck and kissed him hard before you turned and unlocked the door with your other hand. You pulled Bradley with you as you stumbled backwards into the dark room. 

As you searched blindly for the light switch, you pushed Bradley against the wall. You had your fingers in the hair at the back of his head and your tongue was in his mouth as you located the switch.

"That's better," you mumbled breathlessly as you turned on the light, and Bradley pulled away from you a few inches. 

"You're fucking gorgeous," he whispered as he tightened his right arm around your waist. He wasn't being shy about how hard he was for you, and you weren't being shy either. You whimpered as you rubbed yourself gently against him, and he ran his thumb along your cheek and down to your lips. "I haven't been this turned on in so long."

Then Bradley watched you reach down and pull off your white shirt in one smooth motion, leaving you in that sinful looking blue bra before him. You were stroking him through his jeans with your right hand when you whispered, "I thought you were going to taste me, Bradley." Your eyes were wide and innocent looking as you challenged him. 

He nodded slowly. "I wanna taste you everywhere." Then he scooped you up as you laughed, and he carried you to the king sized bed as you wrapped your arms around his neck. "You gonna let me do that?"

"Yes," you whispered right next to his ear, and Bradley eased you down onto the bed with his body weight on top of you. As you started tugging on his Padres shirt, he managed to remove his shoes before reaching down both of your calves and yanking yours off. He tossed them blindly behind himself, wincing as he hit the wall with both of them. 

But you just laughed and pulled his tee shirt up, leaving him in his white tank. You were holding his shirt in your hand as he pressed his lips to yours. "You taste so good here," he whispered, running his tongue along your bottom lip as you wrapped your leg around his hip. Then he kissed your chest before licking a stripe across the top of your lace bra as you bucked your core against him. "Fuck," he groaned. He licked and sucked on the top of your right tit. "Your skin tastes like that spilled beer. I love it on you."

"Well then, you better clean me up with your tongue, since it's your fault in the first place." You tipped your head back, and arched your back off the bed, and Bradley followed your lead, letting his big hands find the clasp of your bra. You moaned softly as he unhooked it and moved his fingers around to ease the fabric away from your body.

"God damn," he groaned before taking your nipple between his lips. Your fingers were tight in his hair as he sucked on you, rubbing the rough pad of his thumb against your other breast.

"Bradley!" you cried out when he rubbed his mustache across your nipple. He was dying to fuck you, but you were letting him tease the hell out of you, and he was loving this.

"You like that?" he asked, enjoying all the cues you were giving him. He couldn't stop grinning as you whimpered a soft little yes before pulling his undershirt off. 

When you ran your fingers through his chest hair and down his abs, Bradley swallowed hard. Because you didn't stop there. You reached right for his unbuttoned jeans and eased his zipper down. He held himself over you, looking down into your needy eyes as you ran your fingers along the elastic of his underwear before delving inside. You licked your pouty lips before you wrapped your hand around his cock, and then you closed the distance up to his lips with the softest, sweetest kiss. You stroked him slowly while barely brushing your lips against his, and it was driving him absolutely insane.

"Ace," he grunted, and you squeezed your hand around his cock and giggled while he moaned for you. Then you gasped and let go of him. "What's wrong?" he asked, immediately pulling himself away from you while he panted.

Your eyes looked concerned, so he put a little more distance between your bodies. "I don't have any condoms," you whispered as you eased your hand away from him.

Bradley pressed his lips to your forehead. "I think I have one in my wallet. It's new."

"Oh," you gasped. "Should have known," you told him. "You're pretty gorgeous, too."

Bradley wanted to ease your mind, let you know that he didn't hook up with a lot of women anymore. He wanted to tell you that the condom was there for just a special occasion like this one. He wanted to explain to you that the last few he'd had in his wallet had been sacrificed to Jake when he'd been in a pinch at the bar.

But you were easing him onto his back, and he supposed it probably wouldn't make much of a difference. It wasn't like you were going to want more from him than just tonight. Besides, he hadn't had anything that wasn't casual in a very long time. 

You were on top of him now, straddling his waist in your unbuttoned jeans, and you were reaching for both of his hands. And when you had your fingers laced with his and pinned his hands over his head, Bradley closed his eyes and enjoyed your touch. Your lips were soft on his face and your thumbs were stroking along his palms in a way that was not only turning him on more, but also providing him with some comfort. 

When you whispered his name, he opened his eyes and he felt surprised by the realization that he only met you tonight. 

"Maybe you should get that condom ready?" you asked softly, rolling your hips against Bradley's torso.

"Yeah," he grunted. And then you were easing down his body, taking his jeans and underwear with you. Bradley propped himself up on one elbow as his cock sprang free. You made eye contact with him, lips parted on a soft whimper. 

"Bradley," you sighed, tugging his jeans, underwear and socks completely off. 

Before you tossed everything aside, he mumbled, "Grab my wallet, Baby." Your eyes met his with so much need before you focused on taking the leather out of the pocket of his jeans, it had him reaching for you. 

You shoved it into his hand before you scrambled back up his body and brushed your fingers through his hair, kissing his lips like he was every goddamn thing you wanted.

Bradley removed the condom and tossed his wallet onto the floor. Then he had you underneath him again. You still smelled like the spilled beer as he kissed his way along your chest, and you were trying to wriggle out of your jeans. "I can take care of that," he whispered, pressing the condom into your hand. Then he had every scrap of fabric removed from your body, and he didn't know if he could handle how perfect you really were. "Ace," he groaned when you eased your feet up his biceps and let your ankles rest on his shoulders. 

Bradley's lips found the inside of your right thigh as if he was drawn to you like a magnet. Your eyes were half lidded, and you had one hand in his hair and one on your tits. How was he going to recover from this?

"Let me taste you," he begged, and when you nodded, his lips were on your pussy immediately. He groaned, already addicted to the way you tasted here too. He kissed along your slit and buried his nose against your clit.

"Oh!" you gasped, tightening your grip on his hair and spreading your legs wider for him. Bradley's cock was throbbing against the bedding as he slid his tongue up through your soaking wet pussy until his lips were wrapped around your clit.

"Yesss," you hissed, gently riding his face as you whispered his name. And with each stroke of his tongue, you got a little louder, your fingers pulled his hair a little more. Oh, he was so fucking turned on for you, he wasn't sure he'd last more than a minute once he had that condom on.

"Bradley!" you gasped, pressing your heel into his back while he sucked on your clit. "Put the condom on."

It took him a little bit to get his lips away from your pussy, because he really wanted to get you off with his mouth. But then he rationalized that you wanted him to get you off with his dick instead, and that sounded perfect, too.

"Okay," he panted, brushing his wet mustache against your belly as you opened the condom for him. He rolled it on and kissed your lips as he pressed himself to your core. Now you were holding him in place by his hair as you returned his kisses, softly moaning into his mouth as he pressed his tip into you. You felt warm and tight and perfect, and as you took every inch of him, he stroked his thumb along your cheek.

"Oh god," you whimpered, frantically kissing him and licking his mustache. Your voice was coming in little gasps, and he loved the sound of it.

Bradley withdrew and thrust back inside you, and you rolled your hips with his. "You gotta tell me what you like, Ace. I want to make you feel good."

He watched your eyes go a little wider before you reached for his hand. When you took his index and middle fingers between your lips and started sucking on him while he fucked you, he groaned. "Baby. God that feels fucking great. But don't make me cum yet."

With a soft whimper, you swirled your tongue along his fingers before popping them out of your mouth and guiding his hand down between your bodies to your clit. Bradley had to suck in a deep breath and think about one of his superior officers leading a boring lecture to keep himself in check. He never felt close to the edge this fast, but as he ran his wet fingers along your clit and fucked you into the bed, he knew he could cum if he let himself. 

"Bradley," you whispered, and he buried his face against your neck. "Harder."

He bit his lip and fucked you harder while you whined his name, and he kept his fingers on your clit, trying to work you up. He needed to get you off. He absolutely needed to do this. Because he was hoping you'd call him or text him. He wanted you to save his number and use it. He was already dying for more. 

"Ace," he groaned, pressing his lips to your neck as your fingers drifted down his shoulders to his back. 

You moaned, "I like it when you call me that," so Bradley pressed the nickname against your lips with his until you were gasping and clenching around him. When you came for him, you took his fingers from your clit and laced your hand with his as his movements grew more erratic. 

He was saying something as he came inside you, but he wasn't exactly sure what. And you were looking up at him with a soft, fucked out smile and pushing his hair away from his forehead with your warm hand. And then you let him collapse on top of you while he was still buried inside you, and you ran your fingers back through his hair. 

Bradley settled his cheek against your chest and let himself enjoy the feel of your breathing evening out after your orgasm. You were still making soft sounds as you rubbed your calf along his leg. He could have stayed just like this all night. You felt that good. 

Just as he looked up at you, about to ask if there was any way you'd want to see him again this weekend, you laughed softly. 

"Wow. That was fun."

Fun. He wanted to be more than a fun time. "And good, I hope?" he asked softly. 

"More than good," you whispered, laughing again. "Amazing." 

Bradley smiled at you, and he knew he was blushing. "Yeah. Amazing is the right word for it."

And you were smiling so much, Bradley laughed as you tried to hide behind your hand. He leaned in and kissed your wrist. "Ace, I-"

Bradley jerked away from you as an alarm went off somewhere in the room. When you sat up, he gently eased himself out of you with a grunt.

"That's my thirty minute warning," you told him, scrambling out of bed. "I need to finish my article and submit it."

"Oh," he said, watching you bend to locate your phone. "Right."

You looked at him and licked your lips nervously as you shifted your weight from one foot to the other. And then you bent to start retrieving your clothing, and Bradley's heart sank as he stood as well. Wordlessly, he went into the bathroom to take care of the condom and wash his hands, and when he came back out, you were dressed in your underwear and the white shirt he had messed up.

"I guess," he whispered, pulling on his own underwear, "I should go then."

You pressed your lips together and nodded slightly. "I guess so."

"Okay," he said, quickly getting himself dressed in everything except his Padres tee. He just held that while he looked at you. "You have my number."

"I do," you whispered. 

"You can use it," he told you with a smile, and you leaned in to kiss his cheek. And then your lips were on his. And then your fingers were in his hair again. 

You moaned and then pulled away from him, and Bradley forced himself to walk backwards to the door, not wanting to take his eyes off you. 

"Bye, Bradley."

He didn't want to say goodbye to you, so he said, "See ya, Ace," and then he was out in the hallway with the door closing behind him.

-----------------------------------

Oh, Bradley! I love Ace, and I hope you do, too! Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 2

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[ladykailitha]

Icarus Part 17

Hey, guys! Just a reminder after I post Caged Bird on Saturday I am going on a two week posting hiatus. I need the break and my backlog could use the boost. I will start posting again on Sept 1st.

I'm not sure if I'll keep the four days like I have been doing or go back to the three days a week. I guess we'll see.

In this we have Eddie messing around with his friends and we get to see The Fallen's new costumes.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16

~

Steve and Spence pulled on the red polos with white medical crosses on the sleeves and MEDIC emblazoned on the back that would mark them as medical personnel. Simon was pulling on the dark blue polo that would signify him as a roadie for the band The Fallen. Shane and Robin stood off to the side wearing regular clothes but with lanyards that said they were PAs to the band.

Steve knocked the trailer’s door and Hopper opened it to let them out. Steve poked his head out and saw that no one was around. He nodded to Hopper and the rest of the band filed out.

“All right,” Robin said, checking her clipboard, “sound check is at four and we are after Corroded Coffin does their sound check. Eddie says he can distract the rest of his band long enough for you to get changed into daily wear.”

The band all nodded and they all went their separate ways. Steve and Spence went to the medic tent, Robin and Shane went to do what PAs do and that’s run around making sure everything was going well, and Simon went to join the the rest of the crew setting up.

Eddie was leaning against one of the pillars backstage watching them work. Jeff came up to him and threw an arm around his shoulders.

“They’re pretty flawless at this, aren’t they?” he said, after looking around to make sure no one was in earshot. “If I didn’t know what I know, I would have never thought they were anything other than their roles.”

Eddie nodded. It was seamless; as themselves they were peppy and cheerful. The guys he’d seen at party after party at Steve’s apartment. But he still remembered how they were on stage and they were so completely different.

“That security guy they got is certainly worth whatever they are paying him, that’s for sure,” he agreed.

“Gareth is vibrating out of his skin to see their sound check,” Jeff said with a nod. “Not even to see their new costumes, just their sound check, that’s how over the moon he is about this.”

Eddie hummed in agreement. “He’s in for a treat, that’s for sure.”

“Have you seen their new costumes?” Jeff asked, eyes still on the hive of activity in front of them.

“Nope!” Eddie said popping the P. “All I know is that they were designed by the daughter of their head of security. Apparently Ellie Hopper is an up and coming fashion designer and who better to clothe an up and coming metal band than her?”

Jeff rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I guess all of us are going to be in for a surprise tonight.” He patted his friend on the shoulder. “Do try to keep it in your pants, yeah?”

Eddie pushed him off of him with a “Fuck off!”

“Dustin still pissed he missed meeting her when they were in California?” Jeff asked, giggling.

Eddie grinned and bounced on the balls of his feet, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Yup!” he said cheerfully. “It was hilarious. All of Steve’s friends were talking about how awesome she was and how beautiful she was all the while Dustin is like in the middle of battlefield, but as predicted Suzie’s parents didn’t want them sharing the same room. So he was fighting with her parents and she was fighting with him for fighting with her parents.”

He pursed his lips to try and hide his smile but it was fruitless and he broke out into a wide grin. “He didn’t even last the month with them.”

“And then by the time he’d made it to Cali,” Jeff said, “she was back in New York preparing for New York Fashion week and was completely devastated he missed her.”

Chrissy came bounding up to them. “Hey, guys. They have everything ready for your sound check and Gare and Bri are waiting for you.”

Eddie and Jeff plugged in their guitars and Eddie hit the first note. He adjusted the peg and then hit it again, this time he nodded. He went through the solo on their latest single to warm up. Then each of the other members did the same.

“Sounding pretty good!” Chrissy called from the front row.

She started shouting suggestions and then they all played together and she shouted more suggestions. Soon their sound check was over with and they filed off the stage to let The Fallen’s roadies to set up their instruments.

The Fallen came out in what Eddie called their casual costumes. Regular hoodies and jeans in their ‘color’ and their masks.

Azrael counted off time on his drumsticks and they got down to business. Gareth was on the sidelines practically drooling. Eddie thought he would be panting after Abbadon, his favorite, but after seeing Azrael’s drum kit, it was all over.

The black metal fittings, the void black on the tops and front of the drums and glittering black on the sides. His setup. The way he looked like a god even in the back, sitting on the throne, black drumsticks in hand.

Gareth starting pawing on Eddie’s arm. “Eddie, Eddie, Eddie...” he whined. “I want one.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow at his friend. “The drummer or the kit?”

Gareth turned to him scandalized. He put his hand on his chest, eyes wide, gasping in shock. “How dare you imply that I am anything but a staunch professional?!”

“So definitely the drummer then.”

Eddie cackled as he ran from Gareth who chased him all the way to their tour bus. Eddie ducked inside and locked the door behind him. He didn’t mind missing this sound check, after all they had a whole on the road and roughly eighty shows to get through.

Both bands were out promoting new albums and being two of the biggest metal bands at the moment, made both labels push for as many dates as they could conceivably do without killing either band.

It was going to be long and exhausting, but holy fuck it’d one hell of a ride. Eddie smiled as he held door shut as Gareth tugged and tugged on the door handle.

~

Steve rolled his shoulders and began warming up his voice. The crowd was bigger than they were used to but he knew that at least a good portion of those fans were there to see him and his boys.

They got strapped into the winged harnesses, specially fitted to work with their new costumes.

Steve gave Spence a thumbs up and the other man returned it. They began lowering Azrael onto the stage. His raven wings glinting blue in the spotlight. His new costume had the sleeves of his hooded long coat removed, leaving him with more range of motion. He wore a long-sleeved black mesh shirt that ended at his black leather gloves. He wore black cargo pants tucked into combat boots. The boots and his belt had silver skulls that glinted and winked at the audience.

He landed deftly a couple of feet behind the drum kit. He tugged on the release cord and sent the wings back to the rafters. He sat down and pulled out a couple of his sticks and launched into his drum solo. The crowd started screaming as the announced his name.

Next was Shane. He rolled his shoulders, trying to get comfortable in the harness. Even though the dragonfly wings were lighter than the others, they were more awkward in their construction. He gave Steve the thumbs up and he was lowered to the stage with his bass guitar. He began playing as soon as he came into view.

The crowd roared its approval.

Astraeus landed on the stage soft as a butterfly’s wing. He pulled on the release cord and allowed his wings to go back to where they came.

The sleeves of his hooded jacket were pushed up to his elbows to show his painted arms. They were the same midnight blue of the rest of his costume. His tight leather pants were tucked into his knee-high boots. His chest was bare and painted blue with glitter swirling around into galaxies. When he moved the mask shifted between the moon phases.

Then it was Simon’s turn. Steve watched as Simon slipped into the persona of Asmodeus like an ill-fitting glove. It was always harder for Simon than the rest of them to get into his alter ego. But he chose it and he had to live with the consequences of being a sex god.

He was wearing a short, red, leather jacket with the hood attached. His broad chest on display with leather harness drawing attention to all the right curves. His red jeans were torn up from his knees to his hips and shoved into mid-calf high boots with chains on them, the jacket, and around his neck.

His large red bat wings spread out behind him as he was lowered on the stage. About two feet from the ground, he pulled the release cord and stomped to onto the stage to roaring applause.

Asmodeus wailed on his guitar making it screech and sing as his wings ascended back to the rafters. His fingers danced over the fret board and threw his hand back with reckless abandon.

Steve loved this part. He loved the roar of the crowd, the music his band was playing all for him. Robin would say that it was because his parents didn’t love him much and that he never had real friends before her, before his band. Children and boys he had a crush on for years didn’t count.

But he didn’t care. He loved being loved. More than anything.

He wore a white lace bodice under his long hooded coat, and like Astraeus his sleeves were pushed up, but his forearms were bare. The shorts he wore were obscenely tight on his ass and left little to the imagination. His white high heeled boots came just above his knee, leaving miles of his thighs on display.

Today his coat lining wasn’t red or blue or even black, like it usually was when he started off a tour. No. Not today. Today it was the Corroded Coffin logo. And when his coat billowed out as he descended the crowd went absolutely insane.

Half way down, the air tanks on his back set off and blew off the feathers on his wings leaving behind the bones. He landed on the stage behind the microphone. It was like Steve Tyler’s microphone as it was decorated in ribbons, but unlike his, Abbadon’s mic never changed. It always had four ribbons. Red, blue, black, and white, woven together up the stand to billow out around the top.

He welcomed the crowd and launched into the first single off their new album. “Hell’s Where All My Friends Are Going!” It spoke about growing up bisexual in a highly conservative household where he was told that queer folk were going to hell.

It was actually one of the first piece of writing Shane and Spence ever turned into a song, but the label was afraid of alienating their audience straight of out of the gate, so it was never recorded. But when they brought Bob in, him and Robin managed to convince the label that not only would Abbadon and Astraeus coming would be good for business, it would be great for the band, too. One less thing to hide.

Remarkably the label agreed.

And now he was going to debut it here to the whole world and he felt like he was flying free for the first time in his life.

Heaven could fuck off, he was diving into Hell!

~

Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25

Oops! I don't know how it got posted without the chapter but here it is!

Tag List: CLOSED

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9- @machete-inventory-manager @useless-nb-bisexual @stripey82 @dotdot-wierdlife @kal-ology

10- @sadisticaltarts @urkadop @chameleonhair @clockworkballerina @garden-of-gay

[honeyedmiller]

Law of Attraction — Epilogue

series masterlist | previous chapter

rating: 18+, minors dni

word count: 2.7k

warnings: no outbreak au, professor!joel, plus size!reader, responsible alcohol consumption, a reunion, confessions of feelings (lots and lots of feelings), no use of y/n.

epilogue synopsis: a year later, you find yourself attending another criminal justice exposition, but everything’s different this time around.

a/n: this is it! thank you all so much for sticking with me through this lil series, even though the updates were super sporadic. thank you for giving my take on professor miller the love you did. i appreciate every single one of you. love u all. xoxo

divider by @saradika-graphics <3

You almost laughed when Margot told you where the upcoming criminal justice expo was being held this year. 

The same exact hotel as last year, because apparently, attendance was at an all-time high and it got phenomenal feedback. This time, you were going because the forensics department you were in was invited as a whole unit, with Margot chosen to give a speech to represent the department. 

You’d grown close with Margot the year that you’ve been back in California. Your job was amazing, you worked with a great team, and you were truly, genuinely happy for the first time in so long. 

So much has changed within the year. You felt like you’d done a lot of growing as a person, figuring out who you are all while living your best life. 

Joel had decided that he’d keep his distance for you, because you deserved to live your life and heal and not worry about him all the way back in Texas. You protested at first, but then steadily came to the realization that it truly was for the best. 

That’s all he wanted for you—the best—and he couldn’t give that to you if he was just going to hold you back. Plus, a long distance thing would’ve just been too much for the both of you. 

Distancing himself was for the best. 

Doesn’t mean you didn’t miss him like hell. He’d texted you from time-to-time to see how the new job was, how you were settling into your apartment with Adrienne, how living in California was again. He cared, alot. More than he’d probably admit. 

As the new semester started for Joel, the texts dwindled down into nothingness. It wasn’t intentional. You both were just busy, occupied people who had jobs to do. 

Still doesn’t mean you didn’t think about him often. 

You’d wonder what shirt he’d be wearing on a random Wednesday, if he drank one cup or two cups of coffee on a particularly grueling day, what music he’d listen to on his way to work. 

You knew it would be best if you could just stop thinking about him in general, but it was hard. The man had a big impact on your life, even though things were more than okay between you two now. You just couldn’t shake him. 

You had some pretty decent distractions, but at the end of the day it was just him. Joel, Joel, Joel.

Margot went over how the presentation was going to go at the expo, and luckily you didn’t need to do much talking. Or anything at all, really. Just smile and wave as you’re introduced, as Margot had put it. 

The setup was exactly as you’d remembered it—a huge room with tables that showcased different areas of expertise in criminal justice, and a stage at the very front of the room with an open bar in the back.

 A small, fond smile curls on your lips as you recall wearing that sophisticatedly sexy black number and Joel’s eyes as he ogled over you. 

You were wearing a pale pink blouse this time with gray slacks and black heels. You couldn’t deny yourself of the proud feeling tugging in your tummy. A year ago, you wanted to be a pro. Now you are. 

“Okay team,” Margot started, and all of you gave her your undivided attention. “Put these lanyards on. There’s forensics teams from all over Southern California today, so let’s represent Los Angeles and be on our best behavior.” 

You laughed softly at Margot’s motherly side shining through. Your lanyard had the words Los Angeles PD Forensics Department with your name written below it, and Forensic Analyst below your name on a laminated card that was clipped at the bottom. 

“Feels like a badge of honor bestowed on us.” Your coworker Brandon joked. 

“Kinda does, huh?” You laugh along with him. Brandon started the same time you did, so you luckily weren’t thrown into the workforce alone. He’d become someone near and dear to you over the course of the past year. 

Margot led you all toward your seats in front of the stage. More people filed into the room, experts from every which way coming up to introduce themselves. Chatter died down once everyone was settled and the speeches began. Each department head from different counties—Orange, Riverside, San Diego, San Bernardino—all gave their speeches and introduced their teams. Margot was last to go, thanking everyone for being able to make it out to the expo. She introduced you one-by-one, sporting shy smiles and humble waves to the crowd. 

There had to be easily more than three hundred people in that room. Even waving hello was nerve wracking, so when Margot thanked everyone once more and wished them a good time, you were relieved when parties started to disperse into their respectable groups. 

“Let’s get a drink. I have a feeling it’s gonna be a long night.” Brandon nudged you, and you happily obliged. You considered ordering a Mai Tai, a smile curling onto the corner of your lips at the thought. You opted for a single glass of Disarrono on the rocks. 

You sipped generously on your drink as Brandon was in full swing of conversation with your other coworker, not paying much mind to what he was saying. 

Your mind clouded with thoughts of last time. The way Joel looked at you, the way you felt under his burning gaze, the carnal need for him that settled into your bones, the things you did with him just fifteen floors above this one. A devastating wave of need and nostalgia washed over you in that moment.

”Helloooo?” Brandon waved his hand in front of your face, and you looked at him with threaded eyebrows. “Where are you, babe?” He asks, and you smile softly.

”I’m sorry. Just deep in thought, I guess.” You laugh it off, internally rolling your eyes at yourself. 

Get. It. Together.

”Wanna talk about it?” He asks, resting a hand on your shoulder. You shake your head and sip your drink. The last thing you want to do is wallow in self pity. 

“Well if you want to get your mind off of things, Mr. Hunk over there has been making eyes at you for some time now.” Brandon juts his chin over your shoulder with subtlety. You furrow your brows, turning around to lock eyes with a deep, familiar, warm gaze. 

You freeze in place, not really believing your eyes at the moment. It felt like your mind was playing tricks on you, mainly because being here had memories of him and the little bits of bliss you indulged in together. 

Your feet seemed to have a mind of their own as you made your way to him, meeting him halfway before stopping before his broad frame. 

“Joel?” Your voice is nearly a whisper, impossible to hear over the loud chatter in the room. A small smile curls onto his lips as he looks at you with sincerity. 

“Hi sweetheart.” 

He looks a bit different. His hair is longer, the graying brown locks hanging over his forehead in soft curls that frame his handsome face. His matching stubble is a bit longer, probably from lack of shaving over the last few days. You spot the heart shaped patch amidst the gray, though, and you want to kiss it. You want to kiss him. 

“What are you—” You start, but he shakes his head. 

“They invited me back because I actually got a new job. ‘M gonna be a criminal law professor at UCLA starting this summer.” He says, and your eyebrows pinch together. 

“Wait, so you’re moving to LA?” You ask, struggling to comprehend the news he just dropped on you. 

He nods, a sheepish smile on his lips as he tries to gauge your reaction. 

“That’s amazing, Joel, congrats on the job.” You grin up at him, trying to mask your excitement. 

You didn’t exactly know where you stood with him, since so much had changed since the last time you physically saw him in person. 

“Thank you.” His voice was soft amongst the chaos of others. You had so much you wanted to say, but the words just seemed to die on your tongue every time you opened and closed your mouth to speak. 

“Wanna go talk somewhere more private?” He’s leaning toward your ear now so you can hear him better. He leans back and looks at you, a flash of uncertainty crossing his gaze. He was probably just as nervous as you were. 

You nod at him and hold up a finger as you step back to your group, telling Brandon you were going to step out real quick. His eyes flickered between you and Joel, giving you an impressed nod. 

You almost wanted to laugh, given that he had no clue about the history between you and Joel. 

Margot didn’t have anything planned for the team until tomorrow, so it was a free-for-all kinda night. You downed the last of your drink for that quick spike of liquid courage, setting your glass onto the bar top before you were by Joel’s side again. He led you out of the expo with a hand on your lower back, not caring who saw anymore. 

He didn’t want to hide anything anymore. He was ready to lay all of his cards down on the table, hoping you’d be willing to hear him out. 

“I have a room here for the weekend—would you be comfortable talking in there? If not, we can—” Joel starts nervously, but you reach up and give his bicep a small squeeze of reassurance as you wait by the elevator. 

“That’s fine Joel.” You smile at him, and you can see his shoulders visibly relax as he nods. The elevator dings, and you both step inside. You nearly want to laugh, hard, at how he pressed the ‘15’ button. 

Total déjà vu settles into your bones, recalling the insane sexual tension between the two of you the last time you rode this elevator up to the fifteenth floor. You look at your reflections staring back at you, and you don't see desperate and needy in your gazes. You saw steadiness and growth. 

He looks at you and gives you a small smile, a flash of I remember too, before the elevator comes to a full stop and opens its doors. He leads you to his room and unlocks the door, tossing the key card onto the entry table as you both shuffle into the room.

You didn’t know what to expect. You didn’t know if he wanted to just talk, wanted to talk and do more, or just do more. 

“So,” He starts, scratching the back of his neck. “Wanna talk on the balcony?” He nods his head toward the spacious balcony with two seats and a small table outside. 

Relief floods your body in an instant, grateful he only wants to talk. You grin at him and head toward the balcony, sliding the glass door open before stepping out into the California warmth. You take a seat across him him, heart racing in anticipation as your gaze meets his. 

“First off, I wanna start by saying I’ve been doin’ a lot of reflecting this past year. Should’ve never put you through that situation darlin’, n’ for that I’m sorry.” 

“I think it’s safe to say we’ve both moved past that part.” You try to keep your tone lighthearted, but Joel shakes his head. 

“‘M sorry for what I did to ya. You’re a beautiful, smart, amazing woman n’ I took advantage of the situation. It was fucked up. Tess gave me an earful, believe me.” His smile is sad as he looks down at his hands folded in his lap. 

“Why did you?” You meekly ask. 

“I was scared of gettin’ hurt again. My ex fiancée wasn’t a good person. She cheated on me multiple times n’ gaslit me into thinking I was goin’ crazy, even if there were major red flags about her and her behavior. Didn’t see through any of the bullshit though, and I feel like I projected my bottled up hurt into what was going on between us. I can’t tell ya how sorry I am.” 

“Why did you get so upset with me when I reminded you that I’m not her? I would never do such a thing to you.” 

“I realize that now, baby. I guess I just got so upset that what she did was being thrown in my face, and it set me off. Listen,” He sighs, rubbing the crook of his nose between his forefinger and thumb, “I should’ve never let things get the way they did. Should’ve never proposed that stupid fuckin’ idea in the first place. I know it’s been a year n’ all, but I still want you, baby. I wanna be with you, show you off, and love you out loud like y’should’ve been all along.” 

You still at his words. Love? 

“Love?” Your voice echoes your thoughts in a whisper, staring at him doe-eyed and shocked. 

“Yeah, baby. Love. Finally not a fuckin’ coward and can admit it. There’s no other woman like you. I wanna be with you, if you’ll have me.” The hopeful look in his eyes makes you want to cry. 

“I don’t want to get hurt again, Joel.” The thought of getting your heart broken again was something you knew you couldn’t bear. The circumstances may be different this time around, but you’ve worked on yourself so much and—

He grabs your hands in his, bringing them up to his mouth so he can kiss your knuckles. 

“I know. And I can promise you, from the depths of my very bein’, I’ll do everythin’ in my power to make you believe when I say I would never, ever hurt you again. It hurt me to see you like that, sweetheart. N’ knowin’ I did that? Absolutely fuckin’ killed me.” 

“I forgive you, Joel. I’m–I’m willing to give this a go, but please, for the love of god, take care of my heart.” 

“I promise, sweetheart.” 

-

Joel kept that very promise. A year later and your relationship with him was stronger than ever. He showed you off unashamedly. Truthfully, you were worried at first about what people would think about the age difference between you two, but no one really bats an eye at that stuff in Los Angeles like they would back in Austin. 

You got to experience the beautiful side of being loved by Joel Miller—soft, kind, attentive, insatiable. He was a man who was a jack of all trades when it came to being in a relationship, and you couldn’t have been happier with the leap of faith you chose to take a year ago. 

He’s reminded you every day how beautiful you are, has loved on you and cherished you every day, and if you’d let him, would quite literally praise the ground you walked on. 

He was all about you and he made you feel like the luckiest, sexiest woman alive. 

You wish everyone could experience a love like this. 

There were many bumps in the road, but it took all of that to get you to where you are now: incandescently happy and in love. 

You look over at the gorgeous brown-eyed man who was tracing circles over your shins that were thrown over his lap, burying himself in papers he was grading—the very same paper he first helped you on that started this whole thing. 

A soft smile spreads on your lips as you watch him intently, enjoying this little full-circle moment to yourself. 

He furrows his brows, and with a slight pout to his lips, pushes his glasses up his nose before looking up to lock his gaze with yours. He gives you one of those soft smiles that makes your heart melt continuously. He squeezes your shin in reassurance, always needing to be touching you in one way or another. 

He couldn’t get enough of you. 

“I love you, sweetheart.” The words slip easily past his lips, and you lean forward to give him a chaste kiss. 

It might’ve been a force of pure attraction at first, but your heart formed around him. 

He was yours, and you, his. This is how it was always meant to be, you think. 

“I love you too, Joel.” 

And you really do. 

You always will. 

tags: @ilovepedro ; @punkshort ; @nostalxgic ; @cool-iguana ; @pamasaur ; @untamedheart81 ; @harriedandharassed ; @endlessthxxghts

[madiomens]

Just Pretend [n.s.]

Summary: Maddie Lane is a 25 year old nurse who primarily works between the hospital and music festivals that happen around where she lives. She loves her job and what she does, it's what she was always meant to do.

So, what happens when she gets offered to combine her two jobs and go around the world with Bad Omens as their tour nurse? The road is lonely, and Maddie and Noah know the feeling all too well when they're constantly alone with each other. They aren't in relationships but maybe with each other they can Just Pretend until it turns into something more.

Warnings: Angst, smut, unprotected sex (wrap it up people!!), mention of past abuse, heavy language

Pairing: Noah SebastianxOFC

All the chapters will be found on my master list posted at the top of my profile! Enjoy <3

Chapter One

I slid my medical personnel lanyard around my neck as I walked through the gate of Aftershock, running my fingers through my loose curls as I pulled my hair out from underneath it. California is technically never cold but it is October and chillier than usual so I opted for a pair of navy scrubs with a long sleeve fitted shirt underneath. Instant happiness washed over me as I was met with the sound of different bands playing throughout the area. A worker pointed me to the medical tent and I gave them a thanks before making my way to the others.

"Hi! Name and title?" A lady checking us in questioned.

"Maddie Lane, RN." I said with a smile.

She slid her finger down the page before nodding and placing a check beside my name. "Welcome and thank you for helping! Behind me you will find backpacks with all the supplies you might need inside them. These include splints, bandaids, gauze, disinfectant, two green whistles, IV kits, and a few other things. Since you are an RN you will be able to administer pain medication as well as some injections if needed, you just have to get them from any medical table you see. You get free food and refreshments while you are here, just show them your lanyard. We like to just make our way around the crowds and check them out. You have full access to in front of the barriers along with backstage, so I would make at least one round backstage per stage to check on the performers and make sure all is well. You can find banana bags back there on carts if any of them are dehydrated. Come see me if you have any questions! My name is Peggy. "

I smiled at her. "Thank you, Peggy."

"You're welcome! Oh, pick up one of the radios too." She said.

I made my way behind her table to grab a lime green backpack and slung it around my shoulders, tightening the straps so it sat comfortably on my back. I took my sunglasses off my scrub top and placed them on my face, the bright California sun straining my eyes. I started making my way to the first stage next to us and walking around the crowd. A couple girls came up to ask me if there was any water close by so I went and grabbed them a couple bottles at a medical tent, receiving enthusiastic thank you's in return. I smiled at them before making my way around the rest of the crowd, everyone on the outside looking good to go. I walked to the side of the stage and showed security my lanyard before being shuffled backstage so I could check on the workers and performers at that area.

I introduced myself to a few of the workers, telling them to let me know if they needed anything. They thanked me for my help before I began making my way further backstage to find any performers who might've indulged in a few too many drinks before showtime. I rounded a corner and saw a sitting area, a man laying on a long red couch with his arm over his eyes. I walked to his side and crouched down, taking my backpack off to set on the floor beside me. I placed my hand gently on his shoulder, causing him to jump and uncover his squinted eyes.

"Hi, my name is Maddie. I'm a nurse working the festival today. Are you alright?" I questioned, looking into his dark brown eyes.

He shook his head no and squeezed his eyes shut. "I don't think so. I feel weird."

"Ok." I said, unzipping my backpack. "Can you tell me your name?"

"Daniel." He mumbled as he covered his eyes again.

"Have you drank any water today, Daniel?" I questioned, finding an IV kit in the bag. He shook his head no and I nodded in confirmation. "Alright, Daniel. When do you go on?"

He uncovered his eyes to check his watch, squinting to try and focus on it. "Thirty minutes."

I sighed and pushed myself off the ground to grab a banana bag off the cart behind me, returning to his side and sitting back down. "I'm gonna start an IV and try and get some fluids into you before then."

He groaned into his arm, causing me to chuckle. "A needle?"

I opened the IV kit with a laugh, slipping on some gloves from my bag. "It'll be quick and minimal pain, I promise."

He signed and laid his arm onto the couch beside me so I could look it over. "Ok, but if it's super painful I'm telling the whole crowd you hurt me."

I laughed as I rubbed an alcohol swab over a vein I chose. "Deal." I prepped the tubing for the bag before opening the needle. "Ready?"

He nodded and looked away from the needle as I anchored my finger on his skin. I smoothly inserted the IV, advancing the catheter and removing the needle from his skin before taping everything down. I hooked up all of the tubing and hung the bag from a clothing rack that was beside the couch before pushing myself off the ground, patting the man on his shoulder.

"This will be done by the time you're due on stage. There's medical staff running around who can take out the catheter for you." I said, zipping my bag up and tossing it onto my back.

"Thank you, Maddie." He said, giving me a nod.

I smiled at him. "Of course." I said before walking away and making my way around the back of the rest of the stage area.

Everyone denied any needs, so I left the backstage area to make my way to another concert area. I slowed my stride as I looked around, taking in all the music surrounding me. A content smile slid onto my face at the sound of all the music. I'm a big music fan but hold a special place in my heart for the metal and rock genres. I made my way around the next crowd, noticing a group was waving me to the front of the barricade. I picked up my pace to make it to the front, excusing myself when I'd bump into people. I briefly looked up at the stage to see who was playing, seeing none other than Noah Sebastian with his siren voice putting on the show of his life with the rest of the band. I forced myself to look away and push down the fan inside me as I made it to the front of the barricade.

Security had pulled a girl over so that she was standing in front of it, leaned over bracing herself on her knees as she struggled to breathe. I laid my hand on her back once I made it to her side, causing her to look over at me. Panic was written all over her face, her eyes wide and mouth hanging open, trying to take in as much oxygen as she could.

"Hi, I'm Maddie." I said, showing her my RN lanyard. "You having trouble breathing?"

She nodded frantically at me, grabbing at her chest before taking one deep breath and collapsing on the ground. Gasps echoed over the music as I grabbed her head before it hit the ground and I went to my knees beside her. I checked her pulse and noticed she no longer had one and immediately snapped into crisis mode, throwing my backpack off. I put my hands on her chest to begin compressions, counting to myself each one I did.

"Somebody radio for more help and have them bring an ambu bag." I said through my heavy breathing.

I went into tunnel vision as I continued pumping her chest, stopping every 30 to check her pulse. A group of medical personnel joined my side after a little bit, oxygenating her for me as I switched out with another worker. I took deep breaths through my nose and let them out through my mouth while I checked her pulse, letting the worker know she still didn't have one. They continued to perform compressions as I placed the AED pads on her chest. I switched back in to perform more compressions, counting out loud so they could monitor them. The AED let out a loud beeping from beside me and I turned to look at it, the screen signaling that we got a pulse back. I took my hands off her chest and rested them on my thighs, sitting back on my heels as my chest heaved up and down. The girl's eyes slowly opened and she looked at me in confusion.

I placed my hand on her shoulder. "Hey, you're ok. We've got you."

She grimaced, squeezing her eyes shut. "Ow." She said, causing me to chuckle and let out a sigh of relief.

Cheers erupted around us and I looked up to notice Bad Omens had stopped their set and were cheering along with the crowd. I slightly grinned at the lead singer before turning back to the crowd and giving them a small wave as the girl was put on a gurney and rolled off to the ambulance. The other workers pat me on the back as I picked my backpack back up and I sent them smiles in return.

"Everything ok now?" Noah asked me, crouched down so he could talk to me without the mic.

I nodded. "All under control."

"Good job." He said with a crooked grin before standing back up and continuing their set.

I stifled my grin before making my way backstage to check on other artists back there. I set up three IV's before Bad Omens came off stage, hyped up off of the high from performing in front of all those people. I paused my conversation with the performer I was hooking up to fluids to look at the band. The drummer high fived all the boys before quickly running over to the closest trash can, emptying the contents of his stomach into it. I patted the shoulder of the man I was helping before grabbing my bag and walking over to him, placing my hand on his back as he caught his breath.

"Why don't you come lay down." I said, rubbing his back softly as I guided him to the couch beside him. He laid down on it and threw his arm over his eyes with a groan. "Have you drank water today?"

"Does beer count?" He mumbled, causing me to chuckle.

"Not at all." I said as I unzipped my backpack.

He turned to look at me with furrowed brows when he heard the sound of packages being opened. "What are you doing?"

"I gotta get you hydrated." I said, grabbing a bag of saline off of the side table.

He groaned and poked his bottom lip out. "Do you have to?"

"If you don't want to stroke out, yes." I said, looking at him as he pouted.

His eyes got wide before nodding his head. "Ok yes please help needle mommy."

I laughed out loud as I opened everything and started looking over the veins in his arm. "My name's Maddie."

"Hi Maddie, I'm Nick. Or Folio. Or drummer." He said, causing me to chuckle again.

"Hi Nick. I'm going to poke you now." I said, giving him a warning before inserting the IV.

He grimaced before relaxing more into the couch. I hung up the bag on a stand before injecting some anti-nausea medications with some vitamins into the bag, turning it a bright shade of yellow.

Nick turned to me, color already returning to his face as the fluids entered his veins. "You're the one who saved that girl, aren't you?"

I grinned at him as I made sure the tape was secure on his arm. "I had help."

"But you jumped in without any hesitation. It was impressive." He said, a high pitched chuckle escaping him.

I smiled at him as I fully sat down, criss crossing my legs. "Thank you."

He closed his eyes with a sigh, relaxation taking over him. A tall shadow washed over me before I turned to see Noah squatting down beside me. "I'm Noah." He said, extending his hand to me.

I shook it with a smile. "Maddie. Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too. He gonna be alright?" He asked, gesturing to Nick.

I looked over at the sleeping man, nodding my head with a breathy laugh. "He should live to drum another day."

"Good. Thank you, Maddie." Noah said, squeezing my shoulder as I smiled at him. "That was pretty impressive what you did outside earlier."

"It was nothing." I said, breaking eye contact as my inability to accept compliments rose up.

"It wasn't nothing, but you're welcome." Noah said with a chuckle.

I cut my eyes at him before I could stop myself, causing him to laugh louder once I realized what I did.

"Noah your laugh is too loud right now." Nick said behind his arm.

Noah jutted his head to the side, motioning for me to follow him further into the backstage area. I zipped up my bag and followed him, quickly checking on the others who were receiving fluids as well. He stopped at the hydration station to fill up a cup of water, handing me one as well. I smiled at him in thanks before gulping it down, cotton mouth almost taking over.

"So is this all that you do, or do you work as a nurse somewhere else?" He questioned as he leaned against the table.

"Oh, I work at the hospital. I don't get paid for this." I said with a chuckle.

His eyes got wide. "You put in all this work for nothing in return?"

I laughed. "I help because I can."

"Very selfless of you." He said, filling his cup up with more water.

I smiled at him as I took another sip of water. "Thank you, I think."

"So, I have a crazy idea." He said, tossing his empty cup in the trash and turning to face me.

I tossed my own into the trash and furrowed my brows at him. "I'm listening."

"How would you feel about coming along with us on tour and being a tour nurse?" He questioned, crossing his arms across his chest. "That is, if you're not too attached to the hospital."

My eyes widened at his question. "Me?"

He chuckled with a nod. "Yes, Maddie, you."

I thought about the idea for a few moments before answering. "The only thing I love more than working in the ER is music."

"Then come pursue your first love with us." He said, eyes boring deeply into mine.

"I would need time to put in my notice." I said.

He shrugged. "We have a month before tour."

I chewed on the inside of my lip before answering. "I'm in."

[astoundingbeyondbelief]

Kaiju Brooklyn 2

This year marked my first time attending a kaiju convention that wasn't G-Fest. In my defense, there were no real options besides G-Fest until very recently, and those options kept getting scheduled during my semester (All Monsters Attack) or had hefty travel costs attached (the cons in Texas, Arizona, and California). But Kaiju Brooklyn's sophomore outing caught my eye, not the least because it was being held in my home state.

Kaiju Brooklyn's existence is fairly serendipitous. Artist and set painter John Belotti Jr. scored the t-shirt rights to the Ultra Series in 2022, but Tsuburaya didn't approve his designs in time for him to sell them at any of the major New York City conventions. After learning that an event space had opened up in Brooklyn's Industry City, he hit upon the idea of a kaiju convention—and thanks to the twin WGA and SAG-AFTRA strikes, he had ample time to plan one.

Kaiju Brooklyn 2 expanded significantly on its predecessor, adding a full lineup of panels, a second film screening, a Friday night VIP party, and an Ultraman screening room. I sprung for the VIP package because I thought it would better justify the trip and I was originally supposed to go with my vastly more outgoing QPP. I ended up skittering around the outskirts of the party like the wallflower I am until some of the volunteers noticed my Wikizilla shirt and started gushing about the site/channel. (Keeping the site up to date has been seriously draining as of late, so that really meant a lot.) The swag bag consisted of a Kaiju Brooklyn-branded string backpack and lanyard, a sticker for the night's movie, and a Blu-ray of Superior 8 Ultra Brothers. At first I thought the Blu was the big prize, but the backpack ended up making my life a lot easier the next day. @mainblag (April) showed up for the outdoor Mega Monster Battle: Ultra Galaxy Legends the Movie screening. The crowd was enthusiastic and the venue terrific; unfortunately, the overhead lighting never dimmed, making the picture hard to see. I had seen the film enough times to be able to follow it regardless, but it was April's first viewing. Mill Creek Blu-ray, Japanese with English subtitles. (I hoped in vain for the dub.)

I arrived at the con early the next day to see how far I could stretch my limited funds in the dealers' room. There was a TV at the entrance to the hall playing Godzilla Minus One, serendipitously added to Netflix mid-con. (Enough of us stopped to watch the atomic breath scene in Ginza that we briefly blocked said entrance.) The dealers were splendid. I recognized a few from G-Fest; speaking of the Chicago con, it was refreshing to see so many kaiju artists in one room again. Amazingly, no Toho lawyers descended from the ceiling. My haul is here. Took me long enough to pick up a MinusGoji. Also, props to Tsuburaya for having a booth; the free Ultraman: Rising cards went quickly.

I went to three panels: Ultraman Goes West with Belotti Jr. and Ultraman Connection's EJ Couloucoundis; A Tale of 2 Godzillas with Shin Godzilla PA Yoko Higuchi, and Kevin Derendorf's incredible one-hour encapsulation of the Godzilla franchise right before the night's movie screening. The Ultraman panel was a real how-far-we've-come moment. Tsuburaya is doing far more to make their back catalogue and their ears available to U.S. fans than Toho at this point, and I was really impressed with how eloquently Couloucoundis spoke about the Ultra Series. The 2 Godzillas panel was hamstrung by the absence of Will Caban, who worked on TriStar's Godzilla, but Higuchi had more than enough stories about Shin and thoughts about kaiju to fill the hour. Great moderator too. There was also supposed to be a meet-and-greet with Monster Island Buddies; unfortunately, he had the flu.

The Cosplay Contest, held on the same rectangular turf lawn as the screenings, was great fun. Creative costumes; great performances for the crowd; a minimum of photographers lunging in front of everyone else for the perfect shot.

The outdoor showing of The Return of Godzilla was my first time seeing the film with a crowd, and I believe my first time revisiting it since my big Godzilla series rewatch in 2019. I took it in with the lovely group I had sort of glommed onto later in the day, along with April and the college friend who I was staying with. I much prefer the Kazuki Omori films that followed—the pacing here tends towards the sluggish—but it takes some big swings with the Cold War angle and, as one of only two Godzilla films made in the 80s, has a unique look. The crowd enthusiastically booed the American flag on the ambassador's car. The source was the Kraken Releasing Blu-ray, Japanese with English subtitles.

I want to end by talking a bit more about the venue, Industry City. This is a line of historical warehouses and factories now largely occupied by various small businesses, including The Shops at Japan Village. It's a vastly more engaging space than a hotel, at times even beautiful, and helped make up for the two-track nature of the con. If you weren't up for the current panel and had tapped out your Dealers' Room budget, there was still plenty to look at. The panels were held at various spaces throughout the venue, and getting to them was sometimes a bit of an adventure. The Higuchi panel was decidedly cramped. It seems inevitable that the con will keep growing, given Godzilla and Ultraman's ever-climbing popularity in the States, but I wonder how much physical room it has to do so in Industry City.

If you're on the East Coast, Kaiju Brooklyn's well worth the trip. For as much as kaiju fans bicker online, the ones who come to in-person meetups remain a blast to talk to, and they know how to put on a show.

[sri-rachaa]

[Holding Sam and Lovely] Listen I know I’m living in my own little world BUT LISTEN

They’re siblings your honor.

“But Rae! How on earth would that work?”

Here’s the logistics of it all in a nutshell:

Momma Collins had Sam when she was very young, about the age of 18-19. She had originally planned to keep Sam as her only child, with no future ideas of having another kid.

Until she got pregnant again when Sam was already 20-21, at the age of 40. Late for a woman to become pregnant, though still very possible.

So, well, lovely came along. Sam was already a grown adult, and voluntarily took up a lot of taking care of them— even when Momma Collin’s insisted on she could handle it [“This ain’t my first kid, Samuel, and they sure as hell weren’t as much of my precious lil screamin’ baby hellion as you were. I can handle ‘em, I don’t need all the extra help, sweetheart.”] But, Sam enjoyed taking care of them, and continued to do so whenever he could.

And then Alexis happened. Car crash. Got turned. We all know the story.

At this point, Lovely had just turned about 11 years old— now without their older brother to look after them.

[Insert many years of horrible mourning and slow recovery here]

Fast forward to 2020:

Lovely’s about 20-21 at this point, freshly moved to California close to where their late brother lived before he died. Wandered onto an abandoned amusement park, found a vampire, Vincent happened, then Adam happened, then Vincent got them back, all the normal canon lore.

Once Vincent brought Lovely home that night after the…Adam Incident, he took a peek of their things while they were resting.

One of the first things he found was their ID on their lanyard in their bag. Their first name had always sounded familiar, though he didn’t know from where—

“Collins.”

Oh. That’s where.

As soon as his eyes scanned over the name, he heard Sam walk into his home— coming to help Vincent’s “friend” he had called him about in a panic.

…I’ll let you finish up how the rest of that interaction and realization went. [she says because she’s still indecisive on exactly how it goes]

[whatarewedoingdude]

The undoubtedly hottest moment of my life was when I was at Disneyland a year ago (weird I know but bear with me for a moment)

I was in a crowd around Boba Fett and when he got to me, he looked at my lanyard, LIFTED IT UP, AND TOUCHED THE RESISTANCE PIN I HAD ON THERE

He looked up at me, said "We all choose sides", and set my lanyard back down. I'm not joking when I say I nearly fainted and had to sit down on a nearby bench to collect myself.

Whoever plays Boba Fett at Disneyland in California. THANK YOU.

(and thank you to my amazing dad who got a picture of the moment for me to cherish forever✨❤️)

[californialanyards]

This custom logo heavy duty retractable badge reel is designed for ease and flexible accessibility!

[legends-expo]

Have you checked out our Ko-Fi shop yet? We have some cool swag available, including these lanyards!

Artwork by @punchitchewiepress based on cosplay by @writergamernerd and @dairyboy117

Love the Expanded Universe? Join us for LegendsCon on September 9th & 10th at the Marriott Convention Center in Burbank, California! Featured guests include Randy Stradley, Matthew Stover, Jason Fry, Corinna Bechko, Sean Stewart, Barbara Hambly, Abel Peña and Craig Miller.

[loverboy1717]

Hey so head canons about appearance when there is not a lot of concrete descriptors in the source material are very much up to the listener. Y’all gotta stop acting like people who don’t agree with the hive mind of this fandom are fat phobic or racist.

My personal, original, character headcanons before becoming active in the online fandom:

John:

Short, neatly combed hair. British south Asian who dressed in like elbow patches and bullshit hipster glasses he didn’t even need but wore cus he wanted to look like a distinguished professor. First edition books on his desk. The kinda dude who smokes a pipe for the aesthetic and refuses to drink well drinks at the bar. Basically a pretentious little twink so kinda on the money with the popular opinions tbh.

Martin:

Curly light brown hair. Clean shaven. Freckles and the kinda pale skin that gets blotchy/flushed easily. Grandad glasses but not like in a trendy way. In a thrift store cus he’s poor kinda way. In my head he has medium build. Like not muscled or fit, but not plus sized either. Just tall and solid with threadbare lil sweaters and he absolutely decorated his institute lanyard with vintage broaches. Rarely wears matching socks.

Tim:

Tim in my head is just Phil Wang in like California surfer fits. Dude wears board shorts and flip flops with his collared short sleeved shirts and ties. Really good at beer pong and pub quizzes.

Sasha:

Jessica Brown Findlay meets Angel Colby but like with hip style and ink smudges on her fingers and a cheekier attitude. Catherine Bohart personality vibes would be a close comparison but not quite on the money.

Elias:

Artfully dyed grey hair to hide his actual grey hair with that 1920-30 little bang wave. Lean but not like scrawny. Slacks, perfectly ironed dress shirts, douchebag Patagonia vests. His loafers cost more than a years rent in central and he has days of the week cuff links. He has the fake corporate smile that promises shitty snacks and forced ice breaker games and incredibly polished generic conversations.

Gertrude:

Lily Tomlin if she were British and way more serious. Yes, this makes me laugh now too.

Basira:

Literally just one of my friends but butched up a bit. (Sorry that’s not helpful for y’all’s imagination) intense when it comes to studying and pushing herself. Button ups and slacks and sensible shoes.

Daisy:

Long box black hair always in a bun but but with an under cut. Strong af but not bulky. Mean lesbian vibes. Sleeves always rolled up to her elbows and her shirts tucked in.

Melanie:

My self insert character. Bi bitch. Backwards baseball cap. Jeans and converse or docs. Oversized sweatshirts. Not cute knit sweaters but like old band crew necks and hoodies and soccer kits. (If anybody would love to go scream at the opposition fans it’s Melanie okay)Nose ring, messy hair to her shoulders. Always looking for a fight and a puzzle to solve.

Georgie:

Rose Matafeo if she was less chaotic and more put together. A wearer of Overall dresses with colorful tights and floral printed cardigans. A lover of tote bags and planners. She has a sticker of The Admeral on her hydro.

[themarchrabbit]

Just so people really understand what this law can do, the people that were rounded up and put in these internment camps, that had their money and property seized, they weren't immigrants.

Out of the 120,000+ people forcibly removed from their homes, over 2/3 of them were born and bred Americans.

Here's the Mochida family:

[IMAGE DESCRIPTION: Black and white photograph of the Mochida family, gathered in a group, waiting to be transported to an internment camp. The family consists of an adult man wearing glasses and a hat typical of the 1940s fashion, with his hand on the shoulder of a small child, possibly between the ages of 4-6. There are six children in the foreground, all wearing their winter coats and trousers, between the ages of 15-4. The children all have identification tags, similar to luggage tags, around their necks on lanyards. There is a young man in the background, also wearing a hat typical of the era, and glasses, possibly the oldest son. There is an adult woman, not looking at the camera, to the right, wearing a hat and coat, possibly Mrs. Mochida, or another female relative. At their feet are about five pieces of luggage marked with the name Mochida and a circle with a crosshairs inside. the cases are each about the size of a large purse]

The date on the photo is May 9th, 1942. The family would have been wearing layers of clothing, likely why the children have their coats on, but no gloves or mittens. They were only allowed to take what they could carry. Someone thoughtfully captioned this one, so no one felt too terrible about these children and their parents being sent to an internment camp. Oh, wait, I'm sorry, evacuated.

"Original caption: Hayward, California. Members of the Mochida family awaiting evacuation bus. Identification tags are used to aid in keeping the family unit intact during all phases of evacuation. Mochida operated a nursery and five greenhouses on a two-acre site in Eden Township. He raised snapdragons and sweet peas. Evacuees of Japanese ancestry will be housed in War Relocation Authority centers for the duration."

"Evacuated" to a "War Relocation Authority center"

[...]The Japanese Americans could bring only what they could carry—clothes, plates, cups, utensils, linens, toiletry items, and mementos—to the designated collection points. With less than a week to sell their businesses, houses, and valuables, they had no time to get things in order. The evacuees were moved to 16 assembly centers. Many of the assembly centers were located on fairgrounds and racetracks, where the living conditions were overcrowded and unsanitary.[...]

"Well, I mean, it was the 40's -"

While interned at the Minidoka Relocation Center in Idaho, newspaper staff reporter Kimi Tambara wrote an open letter in the Minidoka Irrigator to her friend Jan. She recalled Christmas 1941, just weeks after the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor. ". . . another thought . . . coincident with the crackling noise of the firecrackers popping around Lower Chinatown, a low voice 'You damn Jap-you! By gosh, the government should put every damn one of you in concentration camps'—I remember the cold shiver that ran up my spine, transforming the humid, warm air of a July night into the bitter cold of winter. You and I, Jan, tried to laugh it off, because somehow, it seemed ridiculous. The freedom of life and liberty was so much a part of us that the idea of confinement had never once occurred to us."

Oddly enough, while the Japanese-Americans of the time were aware of the year, they also had this strange belief that they had rights, especially since the majority of them were fucking citizens.

[IMAGE DESCRIPTION: Black and white photograph six children aged between 5-6 years old, in a southwest desert region of the United States. The Rocky Mountains are visible in the background, behind the buildings. Buildings are one story, wood and fabric structures. There is a watchtower in the background]

That photo is from the Manzanar Internment Camp. They had a school, you see. For the children the United States government imprisoned there, along with their parents, with no due process, from 1942-1946.

Meet then Lieutenant General John L Dewitt:

[IMAGE DESCRIPTION: Black and white photograph of a white man, John Lesesne [b. JAN 9th 1880, d. JUNE 20th 1962], in his early sixties. He is wearing his dress uniform, showing he was a member of the United States Army. He is inside, so is not wearing his cover, showing he is mostly bald, with his remaining hair shaved close. He is wearing glasses and looking at a point to the right of the photographer]

He was absolutely instrumental in Order 9066. And he died proud of it.

In February 1942, DeWitt reported to President Franklin D. Roosevelt that no sabotage by Japanese Americans had yet been confirmed, but he commented that it only proved "a disturbing and confirming indication that such action will be taken."[7] He recommended the evacuation of all Japanese from the coastal areas of California, Oregon, Washington, and Alaska (then incorporated U.S. territory at the time). Using Executive Order 9066, DeWitt then began implementing a plan for classifying, rounding up, and removal of "undesirables."

DeWitt was opposed to War Relocation Authority efforts to distinguish loyal from disloyal Japanese Americans/and to the creation of an all-Japanese combat unit. He testified before Congress, in 1943, that he would "use every proper means" at his disposal to stop the resettlement of Japanese Americans outside camp and their eventual return to the West Coast after the war. His and Colonel Bendetsen's "Final Report" (circulated and then hastily redacted in 1943 and 1944) also laid out his position that their race made it impossible to determine their loyalty, thus necessitating internment. The original version was so offensive, even in the atmosphere of the wartime 1940s that Bendetsen ordered all copies to be destroyed.

Just so no one feels left out, while his racism against Asian-Americans of all types was pretty horrendous, rest-assured, he was just as hateful towards Italian-Americans and German-Americans.

By the way, just to end this little history lesson, that all-Japanese American combat unit that Dewitt opposed? Dewitt, who, despite serving in the Spanish-American War and WWI, was a quartermaster and administrator who never actually saw any combat. Which, you know, logistics make the military work, that's not a bad thing. But he wasn't a combat commander. And he didn't know shit about it apparently, or people either.

Meet the 100th Infantry Battalion, "The Purple Heart Battalion", and the 442nd Regimental Combat Team. They were eventually known as the 100th/442nd Regimental Combat.

The United States military was still segregated at the time. These men were all of East-Asian descent, mostly Japanese, second-generation (nisei), but also included Korean-Americans and Chinese-Americans. They had family in internment camps. Some had been in internment camps. Some had been stripped of their previous standing in the military and declared "enemy aliens". Their families had been stripped of everything, even dignity. What was done to them was wrong.

They still volunteered. To get out of the camps. To prove their families were loyal American citizens. To prove they were loyal American citizens. To help strangers on another continent.

They are still the most decorated in United States' history.

[IMAGE DESCRIPTION: Black and white photograph, of about a hundred adult men, standing at attention in three columns, all of East Asian descent, mostly Japanese, wearing 1940s US Army uniforms. They are all holding rifles against their right shoulders. There are four men standing to the right of the three columns, one in the front, to the left, a second in the middle, again, to the left. The two other men are standing on a hill to the left. In the front of the (viewer's) left-hand column, one man stands holding the unit's flag instead of a rifle]

[IMAGE DESCRIPTION: Black and white photograph. Four men of East-Asian descent in WWII-era United States' Army uniforms are in the foreground, standing at attention, perpendicular to the camera, holding the United States' flag and two regimental flags. The rest of the unit, numbering over a hundred men, are in the background, in formation. There is a group of what appears to be mostly white men in civilian dress being guided by a man in a United States Army uniform approaching. The man at the head of the group in a khaki trench coat is then President Harry S. Truman, who succeeded President Franklin D. Roosevelt after his death in office in 1945. he has his hat in his right hand, held over his heart, in respect to the unit.]

Their motto, chosen by the men, was approved and made official.

"Go For Broke"

[IMAGE DESCRIPTION: A blue circle outline on a white background. Within the circle, there is an elongated red hexagon/six-sided polygon. The inside of the hexagon is colored blue, with a white stylized hand holding a flaming torch. In the outer blue circle are the words "GO FOR BROKE - 442nd REGIMENTAL COMBAT TEAM"]

I'm guessing "Get Fucked, Dewitt" wouldn't have been approved.

Order 9066 was wrong. It was wrong in 1942, and it sure as fuck hasn't gotten any less wrong in the eighty-two years since.

It’s scary that the average person doesn’t understand how massive, dictatorial, and cruel Donald Trump’s promised mass deportation plans would be, but it’s even scarier that some people do understand and simply don’t care

[worldwidesouvenirs]

Mugs, Magnets, and More: Souvenirs for Every State Lover!

Looking for a way to keep your favorite state close at hand? 🗺️ Whether it’s the vivid blue of Alaska’s flag or the unmistakable colors of California, Worldwide Souvenirs has something just for you. Imagine sipping coffee each morning from a state flag mug that reminds you of home or a special trip. 🌅

From eye-catching magnets to lanyards that add flair to your ID, we’ve got a wide selection. We even have keychains, perfect for adding personality to your everyday essentials!

Why settle for ordinary when you can carry a piece of your state pride wherever you go? Our keepsakes make great gifts, too – surprise a friend or family member with a token of their favorite place! 🎁

[4everdisneygirl]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Bundle of Disneyland Magic Keyholder Magic Band, lanyard, magnet.