#he’s the always chewing rep we need

[helenabertinell1]

will not shut up about keller and his mouthgaurd chewing

[netherfeildren]

FABLE OF THE DOG : 3. Little Freak

Series Masterlist; Chapter: 1, Chapter: 2,

Pairing: Joel Miller x FMC

Rating: Explicit 18+

Content Warnings: Cowboy/Heiress AU; Discussions of Grief; Daddy Issues; Parental Neglect; Angst and Fluff; Older Man/Younger Woman; Jealousy; Possessive Behavior; Brat Taming; Extremely Bossy Old Man; Rough Sex; Size Difference; Spanking; DD/lg Dynamics; Dom/Sub Undertones; Forced Orgasm; Dirty Talk (like really forreal); Small Boobie Rep; Biting; Over Stimulation;

A/N: really sticking my finger in the father wound and wiggling it around in this one :))))))

Word Count: 10.3K

Read on AO3

3. Little Freak

You pull your sticky fingers from the damp bed of your underwear, the not enough little orgasm you’d been able to rub out still pulsing hot and cold through your cunt. 

Horrible man—you’ve never wanted anyone or anything as badly as you want him to need you. And no, not a wanting sort of thing, not a wanting sort of desire—that’s not what you’d demand from him. It’s specific, this thing: it’s that you want him to have no choice in the matter, you want him to be forced, to see no other recourse but you because that’s just how necessary you feel to him. 

You want there to be no thought, no compunction in him—only you. 

Even more, because lies are worth nothing here in your own mind in your cold bed—

—You want him to love you. 

The way your father never did. The way no man ever has, not really. 

Face buried in the dark for a moment, you groan softly before sliding belly first off the silk bedding onto your knees, pushing yourself up off the floor unsteadily. You toe your boots off and then step tiptoe on the end of each sock to pull them from your feet. It’d not been a lie—you’re not drunk, limiting yourself to only one tonight, and no liquor, because you knew you needed to be able to focus on the taste of his tongue when you inevitably got your hooks in him, hoping, knowing he’d take your bait and follow, but now, it’s a wholly different sort of buzz zinging through you. 

All him. All man. All Joel.

He’d been flavored of smoked whiskey and mint, a hint of tobacco, and you wish you could’ve been more faithful in your pursuit of enjoying the chewing of the leaves he always has, you’d tried for years but couldn’t bear the texture, the green gnashed between your teeth, earthen and organic. It’s not for you, your tastes veering to something hotter and sweeter. But you’ve always wanted to be just like him anyway, and every endeavor at a connection, no matter how small, had always seemed like a valiant one. 

Stupid birthdays. Disgusting leaves of mint. Dead fathers and daughters and all the different ways we hurt each other. 

Stumbling coltish and uncoordinated, newly birthed down the staircase, you push your way out the back door. He’ll have gone to bed now, you know they’re going up the mountain early tomorrow morning to check on one of the herds, but you’re desperate for one more second of him, being spit out of the house of your dead parents, hunting for the last hint of his presence riding on the fresh air off the Tetons and all this land that’s all yours now. 

You veer left then right, a zigzagging dance across the green lawn until you’re far enough away from the house it’s like you can pretend to ignore the ghosts you’re readying to exorcize. One knee hits the ground hard and stinging, limbs loose and strengthless, you feel the stab of a little rock against the curve of round bone beneath easily broken skin, catching yourself on a palm, another too hard scrape and then you’re rolling over into the grass, settling on your back to look up at the stars. 

There are so many, an infinite number of lights winking like watchful eyes back at you, and you wonder at the sort of childhood that lends itself to laying in the grass like this beside a parent that loves you and wants you and carves space in their life for a child they'd forced into the world. It should be some sort of crime, you think, immediate execution sort of barbarity, to have a child and not love it the way it demands. 

Back of your hands open at your sides, palms to the watching sky, you close your eyes and imagine what it’d be like to have the hand of a father holding it, one that would want you—not a mother because what is she in reality to you but an imagination figure you can’t even truly conjure up? That much of a stranger is what she is—such an alien thing you can’t even bother to dream her. 

Drawing your knees up, you press your bare heels into the earth and the wet placket of your panties is ice cold and sticking uncomfortably now, breeze against it. You shouldn't be thinking about this shit, but you think you might cry anyway, sucking in too fast breaths, forcing them out in attemptedly slow little puffs through your nose. A wave of sudden grief, then a plateau, the nauseating up and down of it all. You should be thinking about him, about your victory tonight, about making him so angry he can’t help himself, about what’ll come next—his skin. But that’s the thing about him, Joel, isn’t it? Always has been—the incongruous, make-no-sense feelings he’s always pulled out of you since you’d first set eyes on him, fourteen years old and tender and so alone you didn’t even know there was another way to be but abandoned. 

A laugh then—huffing and sardonic and again, incongruous, because now you really are crying. Tears leaking back, hot and fat to pool in your ears and salt the earth beneath you—unloading your grief into the grass as if God were beside you. Nothing will grow here again because of you if you’re not careful, and that’s the next worry—

If he never needs you the way you’re demanding of him, you won’t be able to stay here. 

You won't be able to live here and love him and not have him, and you could force him, perhaps, in your own ways. But you’ve done so much of that your whole life—forcing unloving men to look at you and take you into their arms when they’d never really wanted to give you the thing you’d always wanted most. 

The tender truth: it would be so much better if Joel decided to need you because he wants to, because he can’t fathom another way than just that. 

And you don’t think you’ll ever be able to live with anything else besides such. 

Another forced out laugh again—just to feel the feeling of it, go through the motion, mountain air a roundabout gust in your lungs, then to your left:  “What’re you laughing at, weirdo?”

Ellie, long and loping and beautiful, come to your rescue. She throws herself down onto the ground beside you and doesn’t even have to ask a thing about it when she places her rough hand in your soft one. 

Working girl, mover of mountains, changer of lives. 

Ellie has always known how to know you, and it has always been an incredible comfort. 

The two of you lay there for a few quiet moments. Friendship as an entity has always been a strange thing to you who have never understood love in a non-transactional way. But the thing that Ellie has always given you, it has always been an incredibly straightforward sort of understanding, simple—that of one abandoned child to another, perhaps. 

“Are you drunk?”

“Why’s everyone always fucking asking me that?” Said with another laugh but of the real sort this time, despite the bite in your voice. 

“You’re a hazard. What can I say?”

Undeniable. “Oh, shut up.” You dig your nails into the back of her hand, trying to scratch her but probably ruining your manicure instead, she squeezes your knuckles in sideways, hurting you way more than you could manage her. A yelp, and you say, “You know what I’m excited for?”  

“What’s that?”

“Skijoring.”

“Fuck no, dude. I almost died last time.”

You snicker, “Yeah, that was the fun part for me.”

Elbow to the ribs, and, “Asshole,” she laughs. And then you’re quiet again together, still gripped by the hands, and it’s the sort of comfortable only two girls who’ve been together since they were truly girls can be. 

“You see Cassiopeia?” She points her finger way north. 

“Do you think I should stay?” You see it, and easily, and you know if you were somewhere not here, it wouldn’t be so simply found. Maybe that’s a good thing.

“Yes.”

“I don’t know if I can.”

“Because of Joel.” It isn’t a question. You’ve never said it with words to her, but she’s always known. 

You hum instead of answering, can’t say it out loud anyway just yet. “So you finally asked her.” Dina, she knows what you mean.

And Ellie hums now in turn too. The both of you are so fucked up. Can’t say a thing out loud. 

“And?” 

“It’s fine.”

“Just fine?”

“Good.”

“Just good?”

Ellie groans loud and long, baying goat, and you tell her so, which gets another knock to the ribs. “Turn around and don’t look at me so I can tell you.”

You roll over towards the mountains and feel her face the house where she doesn’t see ghosts like you do. 

“But you’re not allowed to say anything—just say okay. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“I think—well, you know…,” she gruffs, voice dipping low and dropping off before she can say the words out loud again also. Everything’s a secret code here, even the stuff that shouldn’t be.

“You think?”

“You’re such a fucker. I know.”

You hum again but the good and happy sort, pressing your lips together to keep the misty eyed smile at bay. “Okay,” you say back just as low and just as gruff. 

“S’why I think you should stay,” she adds. “If I can find happy here, so can you.”

“I’ve never been able to before.”

“But you’re different now.”

“Am I?”

“Yeah—can see it, you know. And this place is different now too—will be different.” 

“I was afraid to come back for such a long time. It seemed like the worst thing in the world.”

She’s quiet for a long moment, before she says: “You’re not supposed to be afraid of your father.” A very obvious thing—or at least it should be. 

You feel her turn to look at the back of your neck, and you peer over your shoulder at her and when your eyes meet, she looks so sad, like she’s so sorry for you but without the pity, and you do understand what it is she’s saying despite never having had that fearless experience. 

“Aren’t you?” A shrug of your shoulder and a helpless laugh but also maybe with real humor accompanying it. Because yes, you’re not supposed to be. You always were anyway. It’s funny in an impossible to understand way. 

A beat and then, “Can I say something fucked up?”

“Yeah.”

“He isn’t here for you to be afraid of anymore.”

Funniest of all, you’re the most sad about this. And what you don’t say to her, perhaps for shame or that child’s feeling of having done something wrong but not necessarily understanding what that wrong is—sometimes it’s inevitable, missing the monster. 

“Maybe you needed him to die.” Yeah, fucked up. You’d already thought the same thing and were chock full of guilt for it. “Maybe it was like—like I don’t know. It was never going to be the way it should have between you, but now you can remember him, fuck, I don’t know—different. Not that you wanted him to die, but now the reality of him isn’t here for you to see, so you can just remember it all however you like or not.”

“So I should lie to myself?”

“Why not? There are worse things you could do. There are worse things you do do.”

You snort. “Is this what your method is?”

“Yeah. Like—like sometimes, when I’m so happy I can’t believe it’s me feeling it because she makes me that happy, Dina,” she says her name with love, “I pretend nothing from before was ever the way it was, and it’s only here and now and me and Dina and the ranch and there was no shitty, abandoning father and no dead mom and no nothing and only Joel is my dad and it’s all always been okay.”

Joel. 

At the center of everyone’s happy dream, why is it always him? 

“Okay,” you whisper. “I’ll try it.” She reaches behind her back then, pawing at your hip until you give her your hand again, and you were wrong. She’s changed too. She can say things now. She’s always had those too perceptive eyes and that too big heart, and she’s changed now in a way that makes her not afraid to let it out and use these things anymore. 

You tell this changed Ellie now: “You know that like— that like… I don’t know how to say it. When a person’s life seems like it should be perfect, and you have everything. Everything should be good, right—but it’s just not. Your parents should be kind, they should be loving. They should be attentive and give a shit what happens to you, and it probably seems that way to the whole rest of the world except for the people that have to witness the humiliation behind closed doors, but it’s really just not, and then they probably look at me and wonder how my life could be anything but rose colored, and it all just seems a little silly and empty. Doesn’t it?”

“Nah—don’t know. My life was always shit before I came here and found Joel and Dina and all of them and you. And I'd seen enough to recognize what you were and how it was. Nothing ever looked rose colored to me—just looked like more shit.” You laugh again out loud now and for real, squeezing more tears out over your hot cheeks when she joins you in the sad hilarity as well. 

When her voice is finally steady from the belly laughs again, she says, “It’s a grief pyramid, we’re all just going around hurting each other in the name of our ghosts and call it an excuse, an offering to their memory and act like it’s okay. But it’s fucked up. That’s why I decided to stop. I stopped pushing her away, I told her—well, you know. I told her.”

“Say it, loser.” You bump your butt into hers. 

“Not to you—leave me alone.”

Say it, say it, say it, you sing. 

“I love her, fuck off.” And a little clog of emotion sticks wetly in your throat.

That’s the real question, honestly: How do you make someone love you? How do you make yourself into someone people can love?

“It’s a grief pyramid,” she repeats. “You have to choose to stop adding to it.” And she’s quiet again for a long time, and you can’t fathom how it is one stops building onto something they’d been born into. You think on it so long the feel of her palm clutching yours starts losing itself to sleep in the grass and the breeze comes off the mountains like a blanket over the two girls who’d become women before them until she says again, “Anyway, that’s usually the case. Anyway, whatever it is, don’t be afraid.”

-

“Joel?”

“Yeah?”

“Whatcha doin’?”

“Nothin’.”

“Nope. You’re definitely doing something.” He angles the phone away from her prying eyes, trying to shield his shame with the palm of his hand. 

“Mind your own damn business, kid.”

“Is that an Instagram account?” Ellie howls like a banshee, Tommy coming up behind him to reach over his shoulder to try and rip the phone out of his hand. He holds it out of his reach. 

It’s just that he couldn’t help himself. He’d heard the boys all talking about it on the ride back down after their long day of work—your Instagram page—as if he knew what the fuck that was. He’d had to search it up on the internet when he’d gotten a moment alone in the bunk, cracking open a beer, muscles exhausted from the hard ride and having to haul a heifer out of a bramble she’d gotten herself caught in, he’d realized it was a thing young people put photographs and such on, a social media thing. But when he’d gone to search your name, it’d told him he’d needed to make an account of his own. Growling in frustration, he’d slowly made his way through the process, too big fingers punching at the too tiny keys of the stupid phone you’d forced on him. 

“Can you shut up and just show me how to work this thing. And stop your goddamn howling—Dina’s gonna think she’s dating a hyena not a girl.” She slides into the seat next to him, taking the phone from his grip to finish setting up the account and type in your name, a deck of pictures loading up for him to hunt through like a vandal. Photographs of you in all sorts of different places, draped in fine clothes and jewels and your fucking perfect ass right there for everyone to see. 

Oh my God.

“How many people can see this shit?” He asks Ellie, angling the phone back towards her. 

“You’re so nosey, man,” she chastises. “Thirty-seven thousand followers.” And a long, impressed whistle from Tommy who he’s going to punch in the face after he’s done with this. 

He swallows hard. “What’s that mean?”

“That thirty-seven thousand people are following her and looking at her pictures, Joel,” his brother says. “Man, how fuckin’ old are you?”

“Yeah, you’re not that old, Joel. Come on.”

“Go away now. I’m busy,” he tells the both of them, going back to doom scrolling through your pictures. One’s of you in barely any clothes at all, an itty bitty orange bikini, hands on your ass and sand where his tongue should be.

Joel feels insane again. 

“Pervert.”

“Joel… I don’t mean to alarm you, but I think there’s steam comin’ out of your ears, man.”

“Fuck off.”

Blessedly, they leave him to suffer in peace after a while, and thank Christ for that because eventually, the ex-boyfriend shows up in the scroll of pictures too. There for everyone to see in posts dated several weeks back—even one of the two of you kissing, you on his lap, fuck that. Good looking, shiny-boy sort. Joel’s left eye twitches at the sight of the sort of man he has never been, could never be for you, someone of your caliber. 

The memory of your cunt grinding against him last night flashes through his mind and his cock throbs once and hungry. He stretches his long legs out in front of him, adjusting in the suddenly too tight seat of his jeans. 

A clusterfuck is what it is—this sudden melding of the memory of the girl-child you used to be, the one that up until only recently lived in his mind, good and golden, and the woman you are now. With both figures meeting together with all the characteristics he’d always admired in you, your kind heart, your honesty, your generosity. You’ve turned out to be an exceptional woman, and it’s difficult to let the distant perception from before meet the lust he feels for you now and grapple with it without feeling sick to his stomach about it all.

It’s all an inevitability though, anyway. He knows this just from the rewind memory play of last night, the taste of your mouth and the little sounds you'd made for him, because of him, the way your hips had rolled over his lap desperately seeking. 

You’re ending up on his cock one way or another—inevitable. 

He’s never claimed to be a good and honorable man—never played the part of one either. He’s not about to start now. 

Clicking on the picture of your sun bronzed ass in the tiny bikini again, he imagines himself biting and eating it, shifting his legs restlessly, taking another long pull of his beer. Tapping twice on the image, he tries to zoom in to the apex of your thighs—he’s going to hell, he’s so fucked up, doesn’t matter—when a little heart appears in the center of the image. He clicks it again and the heart appears once more, refusing to zoom into what he wants to see up close. Fucking piece of shit phone and fucking Instagram—frustrated and hard and pissed off at the fact he’s yet to see you all day, he locks the phone, slamming it face down on the kitchen table, and downs the rest of the can. 

If he doesn’t get a hold of himself soon he’s going to burst, gut all twisted up into a hot knot of coal. Sick with jealousy and anger and lust, aggressive, the taste of your sweetness ringing in his ears and the sound of your moans on his tongue—his head is not on straight and he better get it fixed quick or all this pent up frustration is going to come out with teeth to take a chunk of flesh out of you. 

Groaning loudly, he lets his head fall back, thumbs digging into the sockets of his eyes until he sees stars and not the sight of your slick swollen mouth made that way by himself. He wonders if you slept well last night, if you thought of him, if you’d made yourself come the way he’d ran home to the little foreman’s cabin Kelly had given him years ago, to do himself. Jumping in the shower to jack his leaking cock to the image of what it would’ve been like if he’d been brave enough to pull that flimsy little tease of a thong to the side, let his cock out and force it inside of you, make you take it until you were crying and coming so hard you’d never think to even look at another man again, much less kiss him. 

He should’ve hit that fucker harder. He should’ve kissed you longer. 

He needs to force you to take all of those goddamn half naked pictures down. No one should get to look at you like that except for him, and he doesn’t give a fuck how insane he sounds. 

Outside, he can hear the cowboys hooting and hollering at something, egging each other on louder and louder, the scuffle of them shoving each other and horsing around. He sighs once and long, too tired to deal with their shit right now. All he needs is an evening of peace to get his head on straight and relax and will his boner down for a few hours. He’s acting like a goddamn randy teenager, walking around hard and aching half the day. 

Heaving himself out of the chair, back hurts, he grabs another beer before he’s pushing the bunk door open to the sight of half the team huddled together and peering around the corner of the bunk towards the house. 

“The hell’s got y’all clucking like a bunch of hens?” He asks, coming around them to stop dead in his tracks when he lays eyes on what it is that’s got them all worked up. 

That same ass he’d just been trying to zoom in on, right there in the flesh for the whole ranch to ogle at. Stretched out on one of the sun loungers from the deck, dragged out into the center of the lawn with a little table set up next to you. You’d even gotten someone to scrounge up a huge umbrella, a misting fan spinning lazily, spitting a damp sheen of water every few minutes, a drink and a speaker playing some girly song, whole goddamn set up for all of these fuckers to stand here and take an eyeful of your perfect ass. 

Joel tries to take deep breaths, counting back from ten in his head—fails. He’s going to be calm and cool and collected—not. He isn’t going to lose his temper—sure. 

Fuck that. 

He’s going to spank your ass so hard you can’t sit for a week.

“If you all don’t find something to do in the next thirty seconds,” he growls at them all through clenched teeth, “I swear I’ll have you slingin’ shit for a month.” The can in his grip pops loudly between his fingers. 

They all take one peek at the look on his face and scatter like chicken shit until it’s only Ellie left smirking beside him.

“Take this,” he shoves the can at her and starts towards you. 

“Bro—” He ignores her. Hey! She calls after him, voice demanding now, stopping him in his tracks before he can go get exactly what he’s been denying himself from the moment you kissed him two nights ago. 

Giving him that look she gets when she needs to remind him she knows exactly who he is and that he can’t ever hide it from her, she chews on her cheek for a second before she says, and he doesn’t mistake it, it’s a warning: “She’s a real peach. You know that. Pretty and soft and sweet, but easily hurt. Needs gentle handling, even when she wants to pretend otherwise.”

It pisses him off. Bad. “You think I don’t fuckin’ know that? I understand her—” thumb to chest. Because he did—does. Because he thinks that he really always has. It’s undeniable that he has what you have, what Ellie has. Even what Oswald Kelly himself had had and what he’d seen in Joel when he’d decided to save the life of a no good man in a no good spot with a no good future in front of him—that sadness, that lost doggedness about you all that makes you so like one another, even despite your immeasurable differences.  

The two of them look at each other for another long moment, and Ellie knows, Ellie always understands. With a roll of her eyes she spins on her heel, muttering to herself, slugging back Joel’s discarded beer.

Slowly, he rounds back towards you, afraid as if he were looking down the barrel of a gun, just as dramatic, as well. Objectively, he knows you’re doing this on purpose, to piss him off and rile him up and get a blow out reaction out of him. He tries to remind himself of it as he marches towards you, and if he were smarter or less inclined to take your bait, he’d take a beat to finish that count to ten reversal in his head and calm the fuck down before he gets to you—but honestly, he just doesn’t feel like it. 

All he sees instead is the baby pink barely there string bikini you’ve got on, the slope of your back gleaming in the sun, slicked in something shiny, the damp from the mister, the lush curve of your ass and the shine of your hair resting face down on your folded arms. 

You’re all sunkissed everywhere, and he’d really rather just give you what you want already. 

“Get up,” he growls down at you. 

One eye winks open, peering up at him before you press up on your elbows to take in the sight of him scowling down at you, and he can’t help it when his eyes flit down to the sight of your breasts cupped precariously in the tiny bikini, skin all sun flushed red against the soft baby pink fabric. You look like you’re made of sugar and sweet fruit and like you’ve come here specifically to ruin him and his whole life and all his self control. 

Hmm? You smile up at him wide and teasing. Oh, he’s feeding right into your shit, and you piss him off so badly. 

He’s never been this hard in his entire life, he’s even made dizzy with it. 

The little wisps of hair at your temples are sweat soaked and curling, looking silky soft. A thousand little details about you and your body—the white of your smile and the flushed heat of your cheeks, sun burnished bridge of your nose starting to freckle—that he can’t help but notice. 

Get. Up, he grits through clenched teeth. No one in the whole world deserves to see you like this, looking so beautiful, especially not him. Shading your eyes with the palm of your hand, you scrunch your nose up at him, and he’s got half a mind to bark at you to not do that when he’s around or he’s really gonna lose it. Your smile beams brighter. 

“What’s wrong, Joel? Havin’ a rough day?”

“I swear to Christ, if you don’t get your ass up and in the house right this minute, I’m going to put you over my knee right here in front of your whole ranch to witness, little girl.”

You smile up at him again and a muscle at the corner of his jaw flutters madly, he’s about to crack a fucking molar. “Hmm, I don’t think so.” And you flop back down again so that the soft of your ass jiggles slightly, arching your back just a little so that he’s growling once, right before he’s gripping you by the elbow and pulling you upwards against his chest and dragging you all bare and slippery limbed to your feet. You smell like coconuts and sweet sweat and saliva pools heavy beneath his tongue. 

“If you wanna act like a brat, I’m gonna treat you like one. You get me?” He yanks you towards the house screeching like a banshee, let go of me, you fucking psycho, you howl. A too little fist swings towards his face, and he catches it in his palm, squeezing tight and feeling your thumb tucked inside your fist. 

“Stop that—you’re gonna hurt yourself.” More squawking and howling, skinny wrist slipping from his grip to take another swing at him. “Don’t even know how to throw a goddamn punch—Jesus fucking Christ. Don’t tuck your thumb.” He hauls you up higher against himself, getting a better grip around your waist so he can carry you bodily up the steps of the deck. 

You jam your heels into his shins, and he huffs and puffs, trying to keep his hold on you. I’m gonna kick your ass, you screech again, scratching and pinching at his forearms. 

Joel is too old and too goodman tired for this. 

“No, you’re not. And if you think I’m gonna let the whole goddamn ranch and all the boys stare at your bare ass all day, you’ve got another thing comin’ for you.”

“Well, I’ve gotta show it to someone, don’t I?” You sass back, trying to elbow him in the throat while you’re at it. Blood boiling, catching you by the small joint, he pulls your arm bent behind your back, other forearm banding against your stomach so that his hand is splayed at your hip, feeling the satin soft skin, slippery in your suncream. 

And sure, he might be too old or too tired for this, but his cock is still hard as anything at the feel of you all against him like this. 

Pushing the door open with his hip, he shoves you inside. The late afternoon sun paints the cool interior in shades of gold and beaming white; everything is beautiful and pristine as always, and yet tinged with the red of his temper and lust. His temples beat in tune with his too fast, pumping heart. 

“Where’s Dina?” He’s still got you caught in his grip. He does not plan to let go. 

“Let me go, you mother ffff—” He gives you one hard shake, hearing your teeth click and rattle. Little doll caught in his grip. He can do anything to you—and you won’t be able to stop him. 

“Where is she?” He asks again, and something in his voice must snap you alert because you settle for a brief second, a little shiver skipping down the length of your spine that he follows to your full ass. He tugs you back, barely moving and slow, just that little bit further into himself so that the lush curve presses against the hard length of his cock—and there it is, the little knowing gasp, finally understanding what it is you’ve gotten yourself into.

-

“She—” Your belly is suddenly so hot and tight, heartbeat starting up behind your navel. Suddenly knowing what it is this is about to be, and yet now finally confronted with the reality of it for the first time, you can’t even begin to imagine what it’ll be like. “She—I don’t know. She went into town, I— I think,” you stutter, brain short-circuiting, desperate to feel that hardness again. “Waiting for Ellie—they’ve got plans there tonight.” His entire hand is wrapped around your forearm pressed against the small of your back, long, thick fingers overlapping against each other, and you roll up on your tiptoes, trying to arch your back further into him. 

He grunts once, exasperated, and then shoves you forward again, rough enough you’re stumbling over your own two feet, full on aggressive panting bull at your back. 

That’s good, he says so low you barely catch it before he’s pushing you up against the wall by the front door, cheek smushed against the silk printed wallpaper. 

Your mother decorated this room years ago, melding the masculine taste of your father and her love for European decor. The walls, wrapped in hand painted English wallpaper on the top half, and paneled at the bottom with a mahogany so fine it gleams an amber golden glow when the afternoon sun shines in through the windows just so. 

Everything beautiful; still, even after all this time. 

He holds you there for a long moment, his breathing quick and shallow, bellows of hot air at the nape of your neck, disturbing the escaped hair from your claw clip curling there. 

“Joel?” You ask once, voice wavering just a little bit because he suddenly feels so large and imposing behind you that something like trepidation beats behind the soft of your kneecaps. You know he worked all day, and his big body is a steaming blaze of heat, waves rolling off of him to burn the naked length of your back and limbs. 

He pulls your arm trapped between his forearm and your stomach to the small of your back to join the other, holding you there in a lock pinned against the wall, reaching up slowly to let your hair down, long and swinging. You listen to the clatter of your clip against the hardwood floor, and then he’s circling the side of your neck, the tiny beating pulse held in the cup of his palm so that it feels as if it’s reverberating back into your head, a staccato rhythm, and echoing all through your body. A chiming bell, ringing and ringing and ringing, telling you that it’s time now. His hand smooths down the slope of your throat to your shoulder, and you listen to the rumbling half humming moan he lets out at the feel of your sweat sticky skin, then down the flat wing of your scapula, thumb nail scraping against the edge of your jutting bone for the way he’s got your arms trapped behind you. 

You let out a high pitched whine, almost a scream, another puff of sound in the assimilation of his name, pleading now, rolling up onto your tiptoes again to push your ass back against the hard of his cock. Everything is so, so sensitive. 

Quit, he snaps once and mean. Ordering. In a tone that says he’s in charge, and finally. 

It’s such a relief. 

You whine again, higher, needier, like you’ve never felt before, and there’s a nauseating thrum of electrified butterflies in your tummy, sticky sweet and cloying for attention. Joel, please, again and the wings beat faster. You’re sure he’ll enjoy the sound of your begging, it’s just something you know. Tiptoes straining higher so that the soles of your feet ache, he smooths that work roughened palm down the slope of your spine, thumb against your vertebrae, feeling the round little notches of bone beneath sensitive skin until he’s reached the twin dimples at the low of your back right above your ass, and presses there and hard—mean—so it hurts. Keening loudly, you crush your cheek harder, harder against your mother’s wallpaper until the bone aches, until there’ll surely be an indent of your shape left in the wall, and his thumb digs even harder anyway, gripping you tight enough to bruise. 

This is how it’ll be—surprising, but also not. In all your years of imagining, you still don’t know what it is you expected.

“You’re carved so fine,” whispered against your skin and gooseflesh spreads like wildfire, nipples going tight and aching. His nose skims the slope of your nape, smelling you. “S’like you’re made of sugar. Is that what you’ll taste like too?” And his words are slurred, drunk-like and you feel the same way also, legs on the verge of giving out.

You press your hips back again, desperate for any sort of pressure, and he jostles you once, hard enough you bite your tongue. Quit moving, he snaps, shoving his knee between your legs and spreading you wide and immobile, thigh hooked over his own so that the toes of that leg barely skim the ground and now you’re precariously balanced on one foot, held up and pinned entirely by him. 

 Caughtcha, he murmurs.

You couldn’t move even if you wanted to. 

The palm at the low of your back splays wide, his long fingers reaching from side to side and pressing hard against your skin and then all of a sudden he’s gone, and only for a second, before he’s back and slapping you hard and painfully stinging on the ass. A downward swipe of his thick fingers so that it really fucking hurts, and then the palm is back at the small of your waist, hooked thigh over his leg, unable to move, unable to do anything except take it. 

He presses your belly into the wall, and the pressure is so intense and so deep—his breathing is so rough behind you. You know he worked the mountain all day, he should be exhausted, but the strength he’s trapping you with belies the possibility. 

His hand goes away from your back again, and he’s spanking you once more, and you can’t tell if it’s harder or not this time, if it hurts worse than the previous, but the fire pain of it snaps all the way down from your thigh to your calve, pooling there in a knot of painful ache. An animal baying noise warbles in your throat, he tuts once, a cooing click of his tongue and cups your ass right at the rose of pain he’s left, kneading the skin gently, palpating the hurt like he’s looking for the physical imprint of it beneath your skin. 

“Yeah, baby? Like that?” You sing the little animal song for him again. “S’what you needed, right?” His voice now is not the Joel-voice you’ve always known, but it is the one you’ve always dreamed of. The kneading fingers slide whisper soft down the back of your thigh, up again, down again, callused skin scraping. On the up again, his thumb catches at the edge of your bathing suit wedged between the cleft of your ass.

And lest he thinks he’s bested you, you say, “Yes, that’s what I needed,” and he laughs a rough laugh that makes him sound like he’s been gutted. 

He squeezes the thick of your ass between his thumb and forefinger, an almost pinch and then smoothes his thumb beneath the pink edge along the curve, precariously close to danger. The sound of his name loses meaning, you’re praying it in a litany almost, over and over, begging. Hush now, he gentles, more in a sort of voice you recognize while your heart beats so hard against the wall it must surely sound like someone’s knocking on the front door for entry, like it must surely send echoes all through the ghost-house. 

His smoothing thumb continues its journey until it’s between your thighs, pulling the wet lycra wide away from your skin so that he can tuck the rest of his fingers flat against your cunt, and now he’s there. 

One of you says the word fuck another lets out a whimpering sort of noise—you’re not sure which is who, it’s all only a cunt-throbbing need you know he’s feeling leak and pulse against his hand. 

“You’re so wet for me,” he murmurs all reverence like. Joel—touching your cunt and sounding like he can’t believe it. His hand slides back along the curve of your sex, and you really are so wet the sound of it is slick and lewd, his fingertips at your entrance, a gentle probing and then forward again, a circling not touch around your clit, like he’s learning for himself this new little place that belongs to him now. Your mouth falls open on a spit-full moan, your eyes closed because you don’t even have strength now to keep them open and watchful. You’re so wet for me, he says again and again like he can’t believe it all either. 

He drags his finger flats against you once more and then another time and then taps twice with all four of them, two little almost slaps to your clit that make a sticky wet splashing sound. Good girl, and you don’t know which part of you he’s talking to. You’re practically leaking onto the floor, trying to widen your hips, arch your ass back further and present your cunt to him for fucking. And then his fingers side to side in a swiping motion and fast. 

Oh God. Oh God. Inside, inside, you need him inside. He needs to go inside. 

“Please, pleeease, Joel. Oh, please.” Delirious.

“Please?” His fingers move fast and your vision goes entirely away. “Please what? Please what? You, please.” He switches front and backwards again, and then two fingers draw a little ghost circle at your entrance. You, please, he says again. His hand flips over, palm facing downwards, and he starts to slowly, slowly press a single tip of one inside. “Please behave. Please don’t— don’t—fuck— please gimme a second to breathe, to think, to catch up. God, fucking tight little cunt. I’ll never fit in here, baby.” 

Your vision whites, then blacks, then goes blinding bright and colorless—zero frequency. Up to the first knuckle, and he wiggles the tip inside, making you cry and squirm, pulls out and then two fingers are pressing inside and downwards. “We’re gonna have to take it so slow in this little cunt.” Shit—shit.

“Oh my God, yes.” 

Your hips shiver and shake as he penetrates you, his forehead tucked against your shoulder so he can look down at what he’s doing, and drool slides along your mother’s wallpaper from the corner of your mouth as he pushes his fingers in and out of you so slowly, the slick slide, the pressure against your front wall so heavy, and spread so wide like this but held so immobile—it all makes you feel like you’ll wet yourself with such little control over your body. A few slides in and out again, “Good girl, just a little more,” before he’s wedging a third into the mix, trying to put it inside of you as well. A little more? The stretch is too much, burning, and you wail and cry, arching again but this time to get away instead of steal more. 

“Okay, okay. It’s alright,” he soothes. Hush. “It’s okay.” He pulls his fingers entirely out and covers the slick mess of your mound with his entire palm possessively. Rubbing soothingly at your wet, his fingers slide over the satiny smooth skin of your lips. 

“You’re all bare,” he whispers, shocked.

You swallow hard once, shoulders and neck starting to ache. “I— I got lasered.”

“Lasers?” Voice confused. 

“Yeah.” You swallow again, can’t catch your breath. “Yes.”

“Gotta see.”

He pulls you from the wall, shuffling you like gambling cards in his hands, that’s what this is, a gamble, so that you’re facing him as he walks you backwards, bikini bottoms askew and cunt bare to your parents living room; your dead father’s best man about to fuck it raw. 

Pressing up on your tiptoes at the same time that you’re tugging him low by the collar and the slightly too long hair that curls over it to press an open mouthed kiss to his lips with eyes kept open. You need to see his face, his reaction, that even though he’s all rough, he’s still Joel and he’ll still take care of you now. 

One strong forearm bands around your back, pressing you up high and close to his chest, fingers tangling in the bikini string at your back so that it pulls tight and bites into your skin, the other reaching around the back of your thighs to take a squeezing handful of you ass as he lifts you clean off the ground, lumbering slowly towards the couch while the two of you stare at each other with something that smells suspiciously of wonder. 

On the high ground now, you stare down at him, held as you are and kiss him again, for real this time, with tongue, an eating of his mouth. Trying to taste him as deep as you can go, digging your manicured fingernails into the rough whiskered planes of his cheeks until he grunts roughly.

Showing him that you can hurt him too. 

His knees hit the edge of the couch, one palm going to the back to hold himself steady as he sets you down, following your path to fold over you nose to nose. Watching each other for a blink, predator, predator, lashes tangling and then his mouth is sliding wetly over your burning cheekbone, drawn out groan like dying. Down to the hinge of your jaw where he sucks sharp once and his tongue flutters down the column of your throat, tasting your pulse, his palms everywhere at the same time too. Over your shoulders and down your goosefleshed arms, cinching at the nip of your waist to slide around your hips and to your ass, pulling you forward and open when he goes to his knees on the floor at the edge of the sofa between your spread thighs, with you draped diagonally across the cool leather that sticks to your sweaty, coconut flavored skin. 

One palm slides down your chest, dragging over your breast, the other catching at your nipple with this thumb, nail scraping and pulling the wet fabric along with him, baring you to the first glance of his eyes. A sound that’s a little like a whimper precedes his latching mouth, sucking hard and with teeth so you’re arching and crying and when your head rolls to the side, eyes bleary and barely seeing, he’s got your small breast in his mouth, jaw hinged wide and hungry. His teeth scrape, one wide palm sliding over your thigh to the back, pushing your knee up high and open to your shoulder, lips skim over your belly, smell so fucking good, sharp edge over your hip bone and the lave of his tongue, taste so fucking good.

“I’m gonna eat your cunt.” Bikini askew, one little tit bared to the cold AC, nipples hard enough to hurt, he pinches it once and mean and stretches the soaking wet center gusset of your bottoms wider.

He looks and looks and grins and everything inside of you pulses. 

Boyish smirk and a cocky glance up at you, oh, pretty, “Perfect little princess pussy, huh? I see now.” He sticks his thumb into his mouth, pulls it out with a pop to rub it spit slick against your clit. Yeah, yeah, like that, and you can’t help the whining cry. 

Pushing your other thigh up high, the grin turns to something a little more menacing before he bends to your cunt, whole mouth covering you there like he’d swallowed your breast. His thumbs dig painfully into the backs of your thighs like they’d dug in your back, leaving little spots of hurt all over your body is what he’s doing, spreading you wide open.  

Every touch is possessive, full of ownership. 

“What are you doing to me?” He groans as he eats your cunt, doing exactly as he said he would, flat of his tongue licking all over you, dipping inside. Purse of his lips then and he’s sucking hard and pulsing in quick successions, and there’s your first one—little gush of slick and your belly so tight it hurts, you need something inside of you so bad—your first orgasm forced from you and onto his tongue, swallowed down into his stomach. He groans like an animal—doubles his efforts, tongue spearing inside, pulling away to press two fingers in—fuck, fuck, and you grab hold of your own thigh to keep yourself open for him, knees trembling beside your ribs. 

The hand not inside slides across you, smearing slick over your belly, it’s everywhere, and presses down as he crooks those two fingers forward. His hair’s all fucked up, eyes glazed a maniacle shade of hazel that makes him more intimidating than you’ve ever seen him and also hotter than you could’ve ever dreamed, that boy’s smile again. 

His mustache is soaked in you. “Little pussy’s so small ‘nd wet, baby.” He wiggles his fingers, pets against the blindingly sensitive place inside of you. “Feel that?” Fingers twisting—almost too much, the stretch burns already and just like this. 

“Please, put it in,” you beg stupidly, a tear leaks and then another, not at all smart of self preserving. 

He clicks his tongue, and you can’t tell if it’s soothing or condescending or both, your eyes screwing shut at what he’s doing to you, trying to paw at his shoulders and pull him towards you at the same time. “Can’t—too small.”

No, no— His palm at your belly presses down, fingers petting forward, again, again, head bent once more to suck on your clit, licking it roughly if a tongue can be rough because it’s heavy and strong and intentional—I can take it. There’s your next one, obeying the come here order of his fingers. Mid-come and he’s forcing that painful third one from before inside, and now it’s split open and sloshing wetly—your cunt—hiccupping into another left over shaky orgasm, fucking hurts a little bit. More tears and his soft chuckle—you’re really in it now. 

When he slurps at your leaking again, fingers leaving you to gape empty and wanting, your hips shiver, trying to shake him away and rock against him at the same time. He says something you can’t make out, can’t even open your eyes, you just need a second, you swear, and then the clink of his belt, the shuffle of clothes, and he’s pulled his shirt over his head—you’ve enough mind left to open your eyes for this. 

He’s so strong, built for fucking and working and heaving. You knew this already, you hadn’t needed to see him without clothes to know. 

And all yours now, too. 

Your fingertips paw greedy at his chest, muscular, the thickly corded arms and shoulders. One hand wraps around the slim of your ankle, manacling you while he undoes his fly, your heart skips with the split of the zipper’s teeth and pulls his cock out, letting it fall heavy on your stomach—a threatening, aggressive thing. It drags against your cunt, so big it doesn’t stand up straight and jutting like the others you’ve been used to, but bobs low and hanging.

Reaching forward you flit the tips of your fingers over the wide head—barely there butterfly touch—and your hand looks comically small next to the thing as you pet at the dark head swelling out of the thick skin around it, soft and burning hot—he growls like a wolf at your touch.

 “I’ve never— I’ve never… with one like…”

He pulls your hand forward, wrapping it tightly around the thick length with his fist over yours. “Nah, baby. You’ve never had one like this. It’s alright—I’ll show you how to take it.” 

You’ve half a mind to roll your eyes at him, but he distracts you with the soft touch at the split indentation in your knee from your romp in the grass last night. “What happened here, little thing?” His words and his touch are so soft, eyes warm and caring, as if he weren’t threatening at all, as if that thing that’s about to split you in half and make you cry hasn’t started to slick itself back and forth between your legs, parting the lips of your cunt, sticky sound on every pass with his fist wrapped around himself—too many things happening to you all at once by his hand. 

“A rock hiding in the grass last night.” You start to roll your hips minutely against him, presenting your similarly torn palm for his appraisal, no, no, my poor baby, he kisses the little hurt while the fat head swipes over your clit, pressing against your hole—a little gasp and you circle his wrist at your knee, anchoring yourself. 

He frowns. “Last night when?”

“After you left me.” Pouting back. 

Cooing once and low, “You shouldn’t go out alone at night, anything could happen,” pressing again at the mouth of your cunt. Fuck, now— 

“Wasn’t alone—”

The head notches and stays, “Without me then— Deep breath now, baby.” He grunts on the first push inside, and your back arches tight as a bowstring, hand splaying wide at the center of his belly and his long fingers wrap around your breast tight, holding you in place, deep breath, he says again. 

“Oh God. Oh God. Oh my God.”

He pitches his hips forward once, just a little, just a small shove, and you tense, sharp whine hiccuping through you. “Oh, it’s too big,” pressing harder at his belly as he edges deeper again, an inch and then another, literally splitting your cunt open for himself, thumb swiping slow and gentle over your clit, forcing little shudders of pleasure out of you amidst the pain. 

“See, told ya.” It’s slow, slow until he makes it fit, watching himself sink inside of you the entire time, until you’re rooted on his cock, breath coming is quick, sucking pants, puffs out through your nose, body flushing hot and then even hotter. He folds over you, groaning loud and long, deep grinds and small shoves, and then it’s so much, too much until there’s no room left inside of you at all, that dull ache pain of his tip pressing against your cervix. 

You’re going to be so sore tomorrow, it hurts, it hurts, but he plays with that place anyways, covering you with his body to press his face against your breasts, mouthing wet and hot at your nipples, biting hard to distract you from the pain inside. Your fingers twist in his hair, hot and damp at the roots, sweaty musk smell of a hard day's work, masculine, making you wetter for him. “It’s alright… it’s alright. You can take it. You’re such a good girl.” And then a fuck, and he’s mumbling your name, how good you are again, how well you’re taking your fucking. 

“This what you wanted, right? To get caught on my cock?” The palm cupping your ass tips you up and forwards, forcing him inside just that little bit more. Your knees are at your shoulders, folded entirely under him, and the tip of his cock is still there where it hurts the most while he pants and sweats on top of you. A cramp of heat moves like lightning down your back and something goes loose in your cunt, your womb contracting once, accepting its fate as you start to come around him, milking him deep inside of you. You start to cry for real now too, fingernails dragging against his naked back looking for blood—sobbing, actually, not just crying. 

He bites your breast hard, grinds further not letting the orgasm stop, “God—I’m so fuckin’ deep. No one’s ever been this deep, right? Tell me, baby,” he begs, sitting back and dragging you boneless, still coming, into his lap, little girl splayed wide over his knees on the floor. You sink further down onto his cock, and he kisses your hot cheeks, letting your cunt drip down him. His belt digs bruisingly into the back of your thighs and it all hurts—he really is so deep now, head tucked firmly at your cervix, and he feels like he’s getting thicker, harder, like he just needs to be sunk deep like this, as deep as he can get so that all your cunt needs to do is work him until it milks the come right out of him. 

Your head lolls back on your neck, supported at the edge of the sofa. “No more—” You don’t know if you mean it, but it is just on the verge of too much now. You’re so sensitive. 

“Yes more.” He starts to lift his hips again, pulling back and shoving, not a lot, but enough that it’s like a little punch inside of you each time. “As much as I say.”

Whining, “No—I can’t.” You roll your hips against him though, the both of you moving, straining against each other, his wide hands around your waist shifting you up and down like a doll on his cock. Your eyes finally open again, and the sunlight spears in through the windows in buttery blinding shafts, sparkling dust motes dancing above as he fucks you. The sound is all so wet, everything from his lower belly to the open front of his jeans is soaked. “I don’t like it anymore,” you lie. 

“I don’t care,” and he gives you the first really rough thrust, not a pounding but with enough strength behind it that you get that heat cramp again, feel like you’re going to wet yourself again, there’s so much pressure in your belly. 

You’re going to come again. You are coming again. It feels like you should say thank you. 

He laughs, little cock sleeve, and you can’t understand how it’s so intense when the fucking is so slow—so good anyways—who cares about anything. His name slips through your lips without them moving, and he’s laughing again, a little mean and you tell him so, but still tender, still endeared by you. 

You push his face away weakly, a mumbled, “Nasty old man.”

Nuh uh, he hums, taking both of your wrists in his grip and pressing them back to the leather edge on either side of your head, forcing you into an arch so that he can latch his teeth at your throat and suck. The rolling of his hips pick up speed, just that little bit, the heat coming off him boiling up to steaming and his sweat drips onto your skin and disappears inside of you—everywhere you’ve got him inside of you. 

“Birth control?” All broken up with pants and your jugular between his teeth. 

Flexing fingers, hands going away to numbness, he’s got you held so tightly, not being so careful of his strength anymore, his cock drags and it’s so wet and sensitive and swollen inside of you, it feels like he barely fits even more than it did before, like there’s definitely no more space inside of you for him at all.. “Yeah—ye—ah, ahh,” can’t get your voice to come out right with your clit grinding against his pelvic bone like that. “Implant right here.” You turn your face towards your left arm, tipping your nose the hidden little bump right beneath your skin. He clicks his tongue, kissing it softly.

“Poor baby. That’s good. That’s real good, baby. Just be good and lemme come in you now. It’s okay.” He spreads his thighs wider, pushing up with his knees into you now. Oh fuck— “But you gotta give me one more. I want it—it’s mine.” And the way he’s got you arched, the spot he hits inside is more intense than the others. He grunts rougher now, biting your throat so hard you’ll be left bruised all over and on the inside too. One palm lets go of your wrist to grip your bottom, long fingers slotting on either side of his impaling cock, pulling you to him so tightly the orgasm is squeezed out of you forcibly and hurts all the worse for it. You’re limp and boneless now, and he starts to pump his come into you in thick spurts, belly all suffused with heat and your name a groan in his throat.

His fingers, parted around his splitting cock rub at the slippery skin of your labia, back and forth to your asshole, holding and cupping the place he’s claimed, and he comes so long, hunched over and rutting into you, filling and filling until the wet squelch is even louder and you can feel the thick come being forced out of your stuffed full cunt. 

You want to say his name, trying to move your lips, but your tongue rolls uselessly inside your mouth, all you are is a shivering cunt, a muscle spasming and spasming around him. He nuzzles at your throat, finally unlatching his teeth, licking away the hurt, pressing a soft kiss to the sore spot. You can feel him playing in the leaking wet now, fingering at your puffy cunt, well fucked and filled. 

You want to tell him you didn’t think that the bikini was going to make this happen, pull this out of him. 

At least not like this. You don’t think you could’ve ever imagined it’d be like this. 

His mouth, hot on your jaw once more before he finally picks up his head to look at you, and his eyes make you want to cry, all that manic heat is gone now, replaced by some softly smoldering ember. You don’t think anyone in all the world has eyes the color of hazel he’s got. Something that should belong to some fiercely guarded precious stone, they glow, amber opal like, burnished in the setting sun’s golden glow.

“You okay?” His voice is very soft, and only for you.

You nod, chin tipping to your sternum, face flushed with so much unbearably pleased heat you’re unable to find your own. 

Tilting his head to get at your mouth, he kisses you long and soft and open mouthed, licking your tongue, tasting you completely. And when he pulls back he has that same look you feel on your own face—that same unbearable pleasure. Shocked wonder sprinkled into it.

Look at what we’ve done and together and how good it is—

A smile and then a laugh from both of you, giggling like school children into each other’s mouths, and you’ve always thought he has some strange effect of appearing all man one second and then smiling and boyish for the flash of a single moment the next. And you don’t think you understand how someone who’s been through so much can still laugh the way he does. You smooth your finger over the arch of his eyebrow, thumbing at the smile lines at the corners of his eyes. Gorgeously strong man, and you suppose, looking at the wider picture, his life here, Ellie and the boys and a whole full life, you understand it, just a little bit—all the ranch’d given him. He has so much here—centered by the land as its heart. 

You’ve always wanted to be just like him anyway, and finally, voice found—the feel of his heartbeat inside of you—it’s like finding a dream, “I’m okay,” you tell him. 

Netherfeildren's Masterlist

Updates Blog

[oshygoshy]

what instruments hq characters would play in a regular concert band setting (coming from an unbiased! fair! reasonable! flute player)

warnings - none besides band kid energy :( also no proofread

a/n - in honor of marching season starting again. thank god i'm never doing that again, but hopefully i can nail my upcoming audition!! i am NOT open to discussion and critiques btw my word is absolute law. (lol just jokes and if you have any suggestions to add pls let me know i will happily add them in)

picc/flute - usually the best behaved kids (force of habit bc they sit next to the conductor so they have to be on their best behavior). for the most part pretty nice, but they definitely are the biggest gossipers...WILL talk abt anything and everything. from the weather to the crazy ex that your stand partner blocked but can't shut up abt. there's always someone in the section who just has everything in their bag - gum (which we can't even chew in band??), hand sanitizer, vaseline, aquaphor, lotion, etc. definitely the most blind and deaf group bc of how out of tune we always are, and how many ledger lines are in the music. usually chill for the most part, but there's always That One Player that is way to snotty and stuck up abt band like bro chill out u don't need to be so competitive. chaotic good. 

SUGA and is able to talk some mad shit and is highkey deaf (same) but is a wonderful role model for the younger section members. SUNAAA this mf is always on his phone in rehearsal and gets in trouble for it,  shirabu💀💀 takes chair auditions way too seriously and side eyes his stand partner too much 

clarinet - section that has the most amount of stereotypical "band kids" but honestly pretty nice. most of them are hard workers and studious? competition is pretty tough in such a huge section so they are kinda tryhards. not too introverted but not like super loud or anything. a really "in the middle" section i would say, and def one of the most diverse sections bc it has so many members in it. firsts definitely are  always on their a game in terms of music and academics, but the further back u go in rows, the more chatty and chaotic they get. neutral good. 

tsukki and yams omfg..tsukki is def clarinet 1 and yams clarinet 2 (but grinding so he can sit next to tsukki next year), maddog (ok doesn't really fit at all but i think it's hilarious imaging him as clarinet), yahaba (which does fit), kunimi, futakuchi (and those 4 whisper so much in the back), aran BUT i feel like he plays sax for jazz and prefers sax more, would play sax in concert too but competition is STIFF so just plays clarinet, kenma and he's in the back and super unassuming, always on his phone playing a game in between reps, komori and he's first clarinet and is perfect and the conductor loves him 

double reeds (bassoon, oboe, eng horn, i'm putting bari clarinet in here except i don't think it's technically a double reed) - SOOO KIND AND STUDIOUS AND PRETTY. everyone wants to be them or their friend. i've literally never had a band interaction with anyone from the double reed section. always appreciate any gossip, and since they're friends with so many ppl, they kinda know everyone's business but they keep it to themselves. also highkey cracked at their instruments for no reason like there is not that much competition in a regular band, they're just sexy like that. lawful good. 

asahi (bari clari) (also always underestimates how much air it takes to play contra and hates it), YACCHI (oboe), kiyoko (bassoon, sits next to yacchi and they're constantly exchanging gossip with each other in between reps), akaashi (bassoon, literally in the center of band and everyone can look at him and get a crush) 

saxes (soprano [does anyone even like playing the metal clarinet let's be fr], alto, tenor, bari) - ok if you're good at the sax you're INSANELY. GOOD. it's so competitive bc there's so few spots in a concert band setting so if you want to get a high chair placement u gotta grind ur ass off. definitely some of the biggest try hards in the band, even moreso than the clarinets, and also academically they're like always in all advanced classes and shit for no reason. lowkey kind of cocky and full of themselves but u kinda let it slide bc they're so insanely good it's kinda warranted yk? pretty introverted and keep to themselves, but never exclude anyone. lowkey has the most rizz out of all the sections, but they don't try to be charismatic they just kinda are and everyone kinda hates them for it. lawful neutral. 

kuroo...he gives such alto vibes sorry for the slander. i feel like yaku too bc they're constantly competing with each other? maybe bari? lol the instrument is like as big as him. kai is the chill tenor in between them that try's to break up verbal fights before the conductor notices, DAISHOU him and kuroo has been competing for first chair since 5th grade

trumpet - convinced they're the main character (they have repeating staccato 8th notes) like PLS lower ur volume. kinda cocky but this time it isn't warranted bc they're not as good as the saxes. firsts are CONSTANTLY trying to see who can go higher during warmups and it pisses everyone else off but we all reluctantly tolerate their presence...bc when they DO have the melody they kinda slay (albeit a bit sharp). pretty extroverted and nice with such enjoyable energy like u kinda can't help but become friends with at least some of them. when the rest of the concert band first saw the jazz band play, everyone kind of got a small crush on the lead trumpet player bc he was that good (hahah not me nooo never aha). neutral chaotic. 

hinata...except this time he is the main character. inuoka, miya atsumu, oikawa!! technically he should be in the next section with kags, but oikawa fits trump jazz lead too much (also never made all state...sorry not sorry), mattsun and hanamaki and they're the biggest chatters (the conductor hates them), BOKUTO he's so loud but we all love him, hoshiumi

french horn - the It Girl of the band. horn is one of if not the hardest wind instruments to learn. a sharp learning curve fs, but a good horn player is GOOD. insanely freaking good. and also critical in any concert setting and has such a beautiful sound when played correctly. when not played well though...since there's so few horns already in a band, it's really hard to let others in ur section carry you. so if you're not good...everyone can kinda tell. thing is, saxophone is different bc there's so few chairs, but it's at least an easy instrument to play (hard to get good at tho) but horn is just hard period. get grinding or face the embarrassment. tbh kinda secluded, really only talked amongst themselves and the saxes bc they had similar parts and sat next to each other. i never once interacted with a horn player. neutral good.

kageyama (except he's good duh), sakusa (also very good), hirugami (he never looks happy whenever he gets solos tho and nobody knows why..?)

trombone - oh dear...ok i lied THEYRE the most band kid-ish of all the band kids, not the clarinets. pretty nice and funny, loud and never shut up like the trumpets and they get away with it bc they sit in the last row. not bad people at all, they just kinda act like ur younger siblings sometimes, not like kids in ur age range. not as charming as the trumpets, but instead have this childlike innocence to them so u just wanna pinch their cheeks or something. pitch is a huge issue, and anything rhythmically harder than like a couple 16ths and they can't tongue it clearly, but u applaud them for trying. chaotic chaotic. 

koganegawa, TANAKA AND NOYA AS STAND PARTNERS OMG they're constantly disturbing the rehearsals bc they laugh too loud, yamamoto, lev 

euph/tuba - technically 2 different instruments i know, but i'm running out of ideas and combined their section total is like 5 ok cut me some slack. actually so sweet and nice, they have no enemies like the double reeds, but this time they're like isolated in the back row :( so they kinda only talk with each other and sometimes the trombones. even tho they also sit in the back the most they do is whisper quietly amongst themselves, WHEN THE CONDUCTOR ISNT TALKING TO THEM. bless their hearts. theyre always in the background of every piece, and a regular audience member doesn't really notice them, but anyone who plays an instrument knows they're the most important part of the band. always the root of the chord, almost always keep the pulse with quarter or eighths, everyone tunes to the tuba. classic, standard, we love them. i fear one day they're going to absolutely snap and go crazy tho bc at the end of the day, they're still a brass player sitting all the way in the back, which is a lawless land. lawful chaotic. 

daichi, ushijima, kita, aone (it's just the unassuming defensive players lol), miya osamu!! always ready to fight his brother right before a concert

percussion - what...goes on back there? nobody's quite sure, except for them and the occasional trombone player sitting in front of them. they're constantly running around trying to get to their instruments in time, and they always make it somehow. always the tightest sections rhythmically, i swear they can sight read anything perfectly and have it performance ready by the 2nd day. friendly with everyone else, but they're lowkey like a cult bc they spend so much time together with drumline camp, band camp, etc. by far the crowd favorite during parades, pep rallies, etc. but they never let it go to their heads. always have matching section shirts and hats and whatnot on dress up days and it's so cute, but their hats are always crazy like giant squid plushies and ikea bucket hats and whatnot. neutral chaotic everyoje loves them for it.

tendou (he has the squid hat) (also nobody believes him when he says he doesn't know how to read rhythms but it's true, he highkey doesn't know how to subdivide and guesses everything but is always pretty accurate), iwa (he goes shirtless in band camp and everyone is audibly drooling), semi (on drumkit for jazz but also does concert to keep his rhythms sharp), ofc jack of all trades, master of none konoha since u have to play so many different instruments

[genericpuff]

I can't remember exactly what chapter but early on when Persephone went to talk to Hades during the "one day of the year the citizens get to see their king and file complaints" and side lines it (and the citizens time) to talk about Tori and Alex and his missing eye and they eat lunch... didn't Hades just conjure food instead of making them lunch or am I misremembering?

so this ask sent me on a bit of a ride because i went to go find the scene you were talking about, i knew exactly where it was but i had actually completely FORGOTTEN about the whole lunch bit that came with it

and oh, my fucking god-

MAN'S IS EATING AN ENTIRE STEAK ALL TO HIMSELF. AND HE GIVES HER JUST A COUPLE PASTRIES ???

and yes, he does basically magic it out of nowhere because he casts an 'illusion' to change her outfit and they're basically in a secret room right now. So he definitely didn't prepare this by hand or ahead of time (unless he lied about the whole 'illusion' thing and he really did knock her out and change her clothes against her will, oh god no-) And yet despite this being the "woman of his dreams", he STILL feeds her like a squirrel.

This is more proof as to why Persephone was never plus-sized rep and is written purely through the male gaze. For some reason Rachel is DEAD SET AGAINST feeding this poor girl or letting her chew food onscreen, and that's just the BARE MINIMUM of like, healthy fucking behavior.

Seriously, stop reading this post RIGHT NOW and ask yourself, "When has Persephone actually eaten a meal onscreen?"

Go ahead, I'll wait.

THAT'S RIGHT. SHE NEVER HAS.

The CLOSEST we've ever gotten to her eating a meal was that time she ordered takeout (fucking Chinese takeout???) and we never actually see her eating it. She's stirring it around in one panel and then by the end of the conversation, the food is gone.

Even in scenes where you'd think she'd be eating, like in the scene where she stays at Hera's for dinner, they come up with some random excuse as to why she can't have a full meal.

(I just noticed writing this up btw that they're all eating the same thing she is so why are they so apologetic as if they're all feasting on meat and she's just eating lettuce and cheese??? But it looks like all they're eating is greens and toast, what the fuck is happening-)

It's astounding to me at all that a Greek family wouldn't have anything more in the house for a vegetarian to eat than lettuce and halloumi. Need I remind you that Greek food is Mediterranean, it is primarily vegetarian. Beans, veggies, fruit, breads, and cheeses make up much of the foundation of Greek food so why don't they have anything else in the house; and why in the world is Zeus being all judgmental over her being vegetarian when most of what he eats - AND WHAT HE'S LITERALLY GOT ON HIS PLATE RIGHT NOW - is vegetarian???

And when she DOES eat, it's always the tiniest morsels, like she's a squirrel or a delicate little baby who's never seen food before and whose teeth haven't grown in yet. She'll be holding utensils, she'll have a plate in front of her, but will she eat the food? Will there even be food on the plate?

Anything we see her legitimately consume is juice. Happy little baby needs her juice, her sippy sip.

This is honestly so indicative of how Americanized LO is. From the lack of actual Greek food to vegetarianism being treated like an inferior diet to the main female character not being allowed to even CHEW food onscreen let alone eat, like... what year is it ??? Being a vegetarian isn't a radical idea anymore, and for fuck's sakes, Greek food is readily available even in North America so it shouldn't be this hard to get right! Can we please throw out this 1950's misogyny bullshit of the man stuffing his face with steak while the woman eats nothing but grapefruit skins, hard boiled eggs, and wine??

NO, SHE HASN'T. SHE HASN'T BEEN EATING ENOUGH, WE HAVEN'T SEEN HER EAT A GODDAMN MEAL ONCE SINCE SHE LEFT THE MORTAL REALM. CALL SOMEONE.

NO DON'T FALL FOR THE DISTRACTION PERSEPHONE, IT'S A PLOY TO KEEP YOU FROM EATING, PLEASE JUST TAKE ONE BITE YOU'RE SO CLOSE-

YOUR DAUGHTER IS HUNGRY. SHE SCREAMS FOR THE CHICKEN NUGGER. FEED HER.

[sideeve]

synopsis ; after being pestered for weeks about going to ted’s party, you finally stepped out of your comfort zone. notes ; evil!ted , i only used pictures of keanu ooc bc i couldn’t find a good one , s*x , i tried making this have an 80’s feeling , that’s about it 🫠 , reader’s race . ethnicity . hair type or color is not specified

“you’re such a buzzkill. you’re wearing jean shorts and a spaghetti top to ted’s party.” sophie scoffs, applying her red bright lipstick that you advised her not to wear while holding her handheld mirror.

“you know i don’t like going out to parties. they always get ruined by the police.” you shrug.

your friends were not helping your anxiety in any way. they were picking fun at how you dressed, put on your makeup, the way you did your hair. it wasn’t your fault that you weren’t a quick-curl barbie.

“can we just get this over with? i wanna go home.” you stand up, crossing your arms. “yeah, daniel should be here in a minute.”

ah yes. daniel. the boy you’ve tried telling sophie that he wasn’t the one. he’s hit on you many times. sometimes even in front of her. groped you. the whole 9 yards. but she was to in love to see how much of a bad man he is.

you roll your eyes, waiting for this whole night to be over.

“there’s ted!” sophie squeals, pointing at the party host. he was talking to some jocks that go to your school. all with bad rep.

the house was full and trashed. you could barely make it to the couch without being pushed or sandwiched in between someone.

“someone having a bad time?” ted leans over the couch, whisper ling in your ear.

this wasn’t your first encounter with him. once, you and him and a project together. but of course, you did all the work and only got half credit.

you were real picky about your grades and now that ted logan came in and screwed it all up, you tried avoiding him.

“you just love bothering me, huh?” you cross your arms and your leg. “you didn’t get enough when you screwed up my grade?” he scoffs, “it was a C. get over it.” he jumps over the couch, sitting next to you.

“what are you doing here anyways? you don’t like going out from what i heard.” he rests his arm behind you, watching the party go on. “my friends basically forced me to get out.” you sigh.

“good,” he snickers. “your face was always stuffed in a book.” “oh shut up. you’re mad because you have a 4th grade reading level.” you tease.

the both of you turned your head to each other at the same time, laughing.

you don’t remember what happened in the in between. but now ted was naked and shedding off your clothes. “i knew you were hot under those clothes.” he chuckles, taking a nipple into his mouth and swiping the pad of his thumb on the other, making you shiver.

“fuck, ted.” your back arches. his teeth slightly nibble at your bud, “ted.” you smack his head, making him laugh. “i was having fun.” “not while chewing on my tit.”

he softly laughs, crawling on top of you. “we should’ve done this sooner.” he kisses your collarbone while sliding in you. “you better pull out, ted.” you wince, adjusting to size.

he hissed at how tightly you clenched around him. “fuck, baby. you might cut my dick off.” he laughs as his hips start thrusting in you. one hand was placed on your waist and the other was holding your hand beside your head.

for some reason, the thrusts felt…passionate. like he’s been needing this from you. “yes, yes.” you chant, coaxing him to go faster. “fuck yes.” your eyes were screwed shut.

he rested his head in the crook of your neck, suppressing his moans and grunts as the tip of his cock kissed your walls. “you feel like heaven.” he kisses behind your ear

your toes were curled. legs were shaking. you could barely talk. all signs of how close your orgasm was. “that’s right , baby. come.” he gave one more sharp thrust before the knot in your stomach broke.

he grunts before pulling out and flipping you on your stomach in one quick motion. “te-” his cock was pushed into you again but he was pounding into you.

his grip on your hips were sure to leave bruises tomorrow. the wind was knocked out of you. only pants and grunts slipped from ted’s mouth. “fuck yes.” he bit his lip. “fuck, baby.” his hip snapped before he pulled out, spilling his seed on your back.

“je-jesus.” he pants out, flopping beside you. “your nut is on my back.” you point out. “so?” he shrugs, not understanding why you seem upset. “how am i gonna get it off?!”

he chuckles at how concerned you are then kisses your cheek. “i’ll clean it up tomorrow.”

taglist ;; @iovesia

[siriuslydaz3d]

Home || Peter Quill

Summary: Peter goes home

Warnings: Uhh none, I think?

AN) this is a rewrite of something I did after Endgame! if you enjoy, please let me know! Also yes, there’s a reference to his bisexuality because fuck it, we need bi rep and so many people forget Peter Jason Quill is bisexual. 

Peter looked down at the stack of letters he had been writing for (Y/N). He felt nervous, guilty even for returning after all these years. He hadn’t purposely left, he was abducted. He isn’t even sure if she remembers him. Was it possible?

To (Y/N) August 1989

The oldest letter in the stack, written the year after he was taken. It explained what his life was like now. Telling her about his first year in space. Asking her what it was like in 4th grade. Apologizing for being gone. Promising to see her as soon as he could. An ‘I love you always’ sloppily written at the bottom as he rushed to finish it.

To (Y/N) October 1990

10 year old Peter wished her a happy halloween, asking her what’s popular on Earth. The ramblings of a child excited about being gifted his very own spaceship. He made it a point to tell her it was named after Alyssa Milano. He told her all about Yondu and the ravagers.

He wrote to her at least once a year. His handwriting slowly improved as he aged. He smiled down at the aged stacks of paper, thinking back fondly to his childhood. Peter shuffled through the letters, quickly glancing at the dates on each of them.

To (Y/N) May 2006

To (Y/N) July 2012

To (Y/N) August 2014

To (Y/N) November 2014

He paused on that one. November 2014. He wrote about his relationship with Gamora. He wrote about how he met his biological father, who just happened to be a planet. He wrote about the death of said father, and the death of the father that actually raised him. Yondu. 

To (Y/N) April 2023

The most recent one. He’d written it after they’d all returned. He wrote about the death of Gamora. He wrote about battling Thanos on Titan. He wrote about being back on Earth, about the massive battle in New York. He wrote about Tony Stark’s private funeral. He wrote about wanting to see her.

Peter organized the letters back in the original order. He’d asked Pepper for help, giving her what information he had on his childhood friend in hopes of tracking her down. Pepper had come through with plenty of information. (Y/N) actually lived in New York. She worked from home in IT. She was single. She had survived the blip. He was just down the street from her apartment, nerves taking over as he looked in the direction of her home. He took a deep breath, and continued down the street. Peter chewed on his lip as he knocked on her door. A faint ‘Just a minute!’ could be heard from the otherside, and at that moment, it took everything in him not to run away.

The door opened. “Hi, can I help you?” She spoke, his blood running cold and his throat felt tight. 

“You’re totally not going to believe this, but it’s me, (Y/N).” Peter rushed, causing her to raise her eyebrow. “I’m back. I-I’m Peter. Peter Quill from Missouri.” 

“This isn’t funny. I don’t know how you know about my connection to him-” She started, but Peter was quick to cut her off. 

“When you were in kindergarten, you got in trouble for having a pocket of worms. I got in trouble with you because I ate one of them in class. Nastiest taste in the world, but it amused you.” He chuckled, running his fingers over the envelopes. “If that didn’t convince you, I remember the huge crush you had on Mark Hamill after we watched Star Wars. I bullied you for ages about it.” 

“Peter..” She whispered, hand coming to cover her mouth. Tears welled up in her eyes as she stared at him. “It’s been 35 years, where the fuck have you been?” 

Peter stuck the worn pile of envelopes out in front of him. “Funny enough, these probably explain it better than I could. I wrote to you frequently. I’m gonna be completely honest, I wasn't even sure if I was ever coming back. I was convinced I was wasting time, but y’know all the funky shit that happened kinda forced me back.” 

(Y/N) took them and flicked through the pile. “I never stopped looking for you. When they said you disappeared, I went looking everywhere we’d gone. I thought you’d just run away, but rumors began that maybe you’d died and I just.. I knew you weren’t dead.” Her eyes met his face and she smiled. “I’ve missed you, dumbass.” 

Peter stepped forward, wrapping his arms tightly around her as they stood there in an embrace. “I’m sorry for leaving, and again, you won’t believe this but I’ve got a pretty insane reputation in space.” 

The woman pulled away and raised her eyebrow at him. “What? Peter.. You mean outer space right? Like up there?” She asked him, pointing up at the sky. He nodded, a childish grin plastered on his face. 

“Ask me about my reputation.” 

“I’m afraid to know.” She sighed. 

“C’mon.” He cooed, swaying them slightly. “You know you’re curious.” 

“What’s your reputation, Peter?” 

He looked down at her with his signature smirk. “On Terra, I’m just little old Peter Quill. A boring, apparently presumed dead, nobody. In space, I’m the legendary outlaw turned hero of the galaxy known as Star-Lord, lover to all.” He winked, making (Y/N) roll her eyes. 

“Lover to all, huh? How many alien STDs do you have?” She laughed as he groaned. “Do aliens have STDs?” 

“I don’t have any that I know of, and I’m assuming they do. I don’t just go around asking aliens if they do or not!” He replied, as his childhood friend doubled over with laughter. “I missed hearing you laugh.” 

“I missed you, Peter. It’s nice to have you back, even if it’s temporary.” She huffed, looking up at him. “I don’t know how long you’re staying, if you are, but would you like to have dinner with me? I want a chance to properly catch up with you.” 

“Are you asking me on a date?” 

“Never in a million years, space boy.” She spoke, stepping aside and motioning him in. “C’mon, I make a mean ass pot of chili and I’m assuming you haven’t had any in ages.” 

Peter happily stepped inside, shrugging off his coat and tossing in on the closest chair. He looked around her apartment, the walls covered with photos from her life and movie posters he didn’t recognize. A photo of him and her on Halloween hung beside a framed drawing he’d made for her back before he was abducted. 

“Hey, (YN), what the hell is Revenge of the Sith? And why do you have a big ass poster of it?” 

[eris-snow]

𝐀 𝐅𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐁𝐲

Tags: Deku's birthday series 2023, izuku x fem!reader, angst

And it’s stupid that you feel this way, because, who falls in love and stays devoted, to someone who is always out of reach?

I asked 3 different people on how to cheer you up, but no one got it quite right, so I ended up going with my own idea. I’m glad that you’re feeling better. P.s, my offer still stands. I’m a wall away if you need to talk. Just swing by.

- Izuku

That was Izuku’s note to you yesterday. One you find pasted so haphazardy on your Mathematics test paper that…for some reason had Shakespeare on it.

This was probably right before your little incident had taken place.

Last night was a painful blur that was highlighted by Izuku’s warm arms around you, Izuku’s comforting words, Izuku’s steady patting on your back that reminded you how to breathe again.

To cut to the chase, it was a lot of…Izuku.

Thankfully, the nerd made the swift conclusion after accessing your cursed sleep-talking and wolf howl of a scream to assume that he had died in your nightmare. And technically, that was sort of true.

Kind of.

That night had scared the living daylights out of you, and probably out of Izuku as well. He hid his fear well, but…you remember his trembling fingers and shaky exhales.

He had been scared too.

--

“Izuku, I’m going there on Saturday.” You announce as you slam your tray down at his table. Green eyes meet yours, his smile dissolving as his eyebrows crunch together in confusion. It takes 5 seconds for him to realise what you’re talking about. “Oh.”

Katsuki stares between the two of you, fork in his hand and a look of petulant frustration lining his features. “Where?” He spits, stabbing his cutlet. “Stop being so vague like y’all are hotshots sitting around King Arthur’s round table. We’re teenagers who have class in twenty minutes sitting at a table made of plastic. Quit with the theatrics.”

You sighs, slumping down in your seat. “Hi, Katsuki.”

“Shortie.”

“Kacchan!” Izuku frowns. “Starlight meant the lake. The clearing she showed me when you refused to join us on our picnic a month after the war ended?”

Sharp, scarlet eyes widen in recognition as he chews his food, eyes flying to you. “You mean—”

“Yes, that clearing with the weeping willow tree thing.” You interrupt, eyes conveying your message loud and clear: Zip it.

Katsuki shoots back a glare, which ultimately says: Don’t tell me what to do, asshole.

“I don’t give a shit,” He grumbles, stabbing his food again. “That spot is practically a ‘you’ spot. I want nothing to do with it.”

It was a nice little clearing you’d found not too deep into the forest. It was one of those spots that were straight out of a story: A crystal-clean lake that was small but beautiful, and a weeping willow that casted a shadow for shade.

You used to go there often.

Turning back to you, Izuku gives you a hopeful smile. “Can I join you? I want to visit Mom.”

You nod your head. “Of course. We can have a picnic there! It’s been awhile since we last went. We can even skip rocks or find other games to play!”

Smiling to himself, Izuku takes a bite of his meal. “Sounds great, Starlight.”

--

When I introduced this game to you, it wasn’t my first time playing Secrets.

Izuku tilts his head and looks at you questioningly, Post-it note still in his hands. Was this game introduced to you? Did this mean you played this game with someone other than him? The thought makes his stomach churn. He doesn’t like that idea.

“Oh, stop with that look,” You chide as you do your sit-ups. “It’s not what you think.”

“Well, what am I thinking then?” He demands, shoving the sticky note under his bottle as he walks over to you. He sits down on the floor next to you, holding your ankles so that you can perform the sit-ups at a faster pace.

Expression neutral, you don’t stop your reps as your reply without missing a beat. “You look like I just betrayed you for introducing a bonding game from my childhood to you, but you know that isn’t fair so you’re not saying anything so that you don’t come off as selfish.”

“I didn’t say that!” Izuku defends quickly.

You pause mid-sit-up. “Did you think it though?”

His head droops. “Yes.”

You laugh, a smile forming on your lips. “I used to have this…friend. We used to live pretty close by, actually, before he-uh,” You swallowed, eyes hazy for a moment. “Moved.”

Izuku doesn’t stop you and lets you continue. “We came up with it together. At first, it was just a form of communication, like passing notes in class. But slowly, it became more…personal.” You smile fondly while you recite the memory, and Izuku listens carefully, hanging on your every word. “We started falling into the habit of doing it more often until it was on a daily basis. Simple things like, ‘I was actually really mad when this happened, even though I pretended that everything was fine.’”

Your smile is so tender as you recall the origins of the seemingly meaningless game. But this isn’t meaningless to him. This was special beyond words, even though it seemed ordinary or simple.

“That sounds really nice,” The One For All wielder comments, eyes swarming with understanding.

“It was,” You agree, eyes shifting to Izuku. “I introduced it to you because you’re someone I trust. I just…wanted you to know that you could do the same.”

A fiery blush creeps across his face as his heart melts when he hears you say that. He hadn’t realised how lucky he’d gotten when you became his friend. Izuku’s eyes are averted as he fiddles with the fabric of his sweat-soaked shirt. “You’ve made me really want to hug you now, but I can’t because we’re both gross and drenched in sweat.” He grumbles, making you laugh.

“I’m sorry,” You tease, nudging him playfully.

“You’re not forgiven.”

The both of you burst into a fit of giggles, before he helps you up. “Ready to go? We still have homework to do.”

Nodding, you grab your water bottle and follow Izuku out of the gym to head back to the dorms. And that’s when that question comes back.

“How are your nightmares?” He asks quietly, changing the subject. “Did you sleep better last night?’

You wish you could just forget last night. And the stupidest thing is, that had been the best sleep you’ve gotten in weeks.

“Dreamless,” You confirm, rubbing your own arm sheepishly. “Thanks for yesterday. That, uh, meant a lot to me.”

“No, no! It wasn’t a problem! I’m glad I was there to help.” In all honesty, Izuku’s relieved. He knows how painful it is, getting bombarded with wave after wave of nightmares that seem so vivid. “Do you…get those nightmares a lot?”

There’s a pause, before you nod. “Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

“I know how that feels,” He admits, “I hate dreaming about losing people.”

Your scream echoes in his mind again, and it makes him shudder. He can’t stand the nightmares that he loses you in.

“Me too,” Your voice sounds…small, uncertain, so Izuku leaves the subject as that. Instead, he switches back to your story about your game with him, still interested in what you had to say.

“What did happen to him?” Izuku asks suddenly, standing outside the dorms now.

“Huh?”

“I meant, the guy you originally used to play the game with. Is he still around?”

You stare at him with a surprised look, a myriad of emotions flashing through your eyes. Your smile is dismissive, but there’s a hint of sadness in it when you reply.

“He’s long gone now.”

[earthstellar]

if cyber-fleas exist, OH NO

so I’m having a “fun” day off where I have to look up and see if the active ingredients in my field camping bug spray will interact with any of my medications or set off my eczema and I also need to go get flea spray and wash everything I own because my dirt cat got fleas somehow despite getting regular flea medicine, poor little dude :( already called the vet and have to pick up slightly stronger flea meds but at least it’s not too expensive so ayyyy 

BUT this gives me an idea!!! 

concept: Ravage helps out on an away mission on a weird planet everyone wanted to check out for some reason but ends up getting cyber-fleas and is SO FUCKING MAD ABOUT IT and it’s embarrassing, god dammit 

he goes to the med bay and Velocity promises to be 100% confidential about it, reassures Ravage that no she’s not gonna tell anyone, of course not, it happens sometimes, if you’re OK with it here’s what we can do about it, we have a couple options etc. 

but it’s close to mid-day refuelling time, so Nautica stops by to see if Velocity wants a nice fresh energon cube 

and ends up seeing Velocity in the middle of screwing the cap off of what is essentially a flea medicine dropper while Ravage is furiously chewing on his tail 

and it’s just so fucking clear that Nautica is trying SO HARD to restrain herself as she just sets the cube down and backs right the hell out of the med bay 

Velocity immediately starts texting her “YOU CAN’T TELL ANYONE, PATIENT CONFIDENTIALITY IS IMPORTANT!! OH MY GOD I CAN’T BELIEVE I FORGOT TO LOCK THE DOOR NAUTICA PLS I DON’T WANT TO GET YELLED AT FOR THIS” 

and Ravage is now chewing on his paw like “the faster you give me the medication the faster I can be out of here please just do your job. also less chance of me spreading cyber-fleas the sooner this gets done” 

and Velocity just goes oh shit because he’s right, cyber-fleas can potentially infest everything, FUCK

so she tries to figure out the correct protocols for dealing with external parasites but selects the wrong code (one digit off, it’s an easy mistake to make) 

which then pings all the other medical staff that there is a “potential contagious pathogen” on board and the med bay goes on a mid-level auto-lockdown 

and Velocity is like SHITTTTTT but trying to keep cool in front of Ravage who is immediately sick of this shit (and he also immediately realises that Velocity is not having a good day but isn’t roasting her for it because he promised Megatron he’d actively try to not be an asshole to anyone as part of building up more positive relations with the crew lmao) 

so now Velocity is getting pinged with Nautica going “I’M SORRY I’M SORRY” and Ratchet and First Aid are sending urgent medical staff pings asking for details on the potential pathogen because they have no idea what’s going on as they were both assisting with other away team members when this started but now they’re effectively locked out of the med bay 

and neither Ratchet nor First Aid want to use their overrides in case it might actually be something serious warranting a lockdown, lol

and Rodimus, Magnus, and Megatron are pinging her asking for a sit rep on the med bay in case they may need to divert other crew to support the medical staff or extend the precautions to certain sections of the ship 

and it’s fucking chaos 

but Velocity is like “uuhhhhh fuck it” and gives Ravage the flea medicine and starts frantically trying to figure out what she fucked up with the protocol code (because prioritising the patient is always good, right??? she may or may not be panicking a little lmao we’ve all been there tbh <3) 

meanwhile Ravage is resisting the urge to roll around a little (because cyber-flea medicine stings for a second and he’s fucking itchy right now to begin with) and pings Megatron directly to explain what happened (and also request extreme sensitivity when disclosing any further information to others because I Do Not Want These People To Know I Have Fleas) 

Nautica hears about the med bay lockdown from one of the away team members who overheard Ratchet and First Aid talking about it, and so she starts panicking a little too and decides to ping First Aid (because she doesn’t want to potentially antagonise Ratchet lmao) and let him know about what she saw in the med bay right before it locked down which makes her feel bad but also oh shit what if it’s serious????? 

but this just results in Nautica actually physically going over to where everyone is sort of standing outside the med bay now trying to figure things out and everyone is bewildered at her very emotional (and very fast and maybe slightly too loud) explanation of things to First Aid 

(and Ratchet who actually is standing right there also, but he’s just like “listen it’s good to let us know, you’re not in trouble, neither is Velocity or Ravage, we’ll figure it out” but he says it in a somewhat put-upon way so she doesn’t relax until First Aid gives her a thumbs up when Ratchet isn’t looking while he’s busy taking his turn trying to get the med bay door open, lol) 

eventually it resolves after Megatron starts sorting things out on the command alert side of things to deescalate the automatic protocols that are activated when the med bay triggered auto-lockdown, so Ratchet and First Aid do eventually get the door open. 

Ravage is pissed off that now there’s a crowd etc. but also the flea medicine seems to be working so hey he’s not that mad, at least not until Ratchet and First Aid both tell him that he has to self-quarantine in his hab suite until they can do a room visit and ensure that all the cyber-fleas are dead to prevent any spread to other crew members with mechanimal alt-modes etc. 

(Ratchet pings Megatron with some details about the recommended self-isolation for Ravage just because he knows Ravage is more likely to listen to Megatron than anyone else; Megs just responds with an OK emoji because he’s still busy sorting shit out on the bridge lol) 

Velocity does get a little bit of a talking-to from both First Aid and Ratchet, mostly First Aid (since Ratchet’s too old to be doing this shit and someone has to file the paperwork about it lol), but it’s nothing serious; it’s an easy mistake to make, and they spend the rest of the afternoon going over med bay protocol numbers and lockdown procedures for potential contaminants/various other hazards. 

(and also many reminders to lock the door when a patient is being seen, but it’s pretty clear this is a lesson that has been Super Learned on this day, so they don’t roast her too bad lol) 

Velocity and Nautica do get very drunk at Swerve’s that night but it’s fine, they’re just glad it didn’t spiral more out of control than it did lmao :’) <3 

all’s well that ends well!!! 

also once he’s out of self-isolation when all the cyber-fleas are confirmed dead, Ravage does send Nautica a text basically saying “thank you for not calling me a “little cute meow boy” or some other nonsense while I was in a state of acute medical distress” which he feels may be a slightly dramatic way of phrasing things but he really fucking hates cyber-fleas lmao 

(Nautica replies with “no problem!!! :)” but also saves a screenshot of the text and puts it in her digital collage diary for posterity, because she is getting better at making friends!!!!) 

[kalakilo]

ranking nightmare time episodes

under the cut because this is gonna be a long post and it is only for me and no one else<3

i recently finished all the nmt episodes and now that i have no more new hatchetfield content to consume i need to dish out feelings and opinions and i like ranking things i like. this is based on vibes mostly. and my attachment to these characters. i love all of these episodes and the entire cast and nick & matt lang for giving me so much lore to chew on. here is the brutal order of ranking my children

13. daddy

somebody had to be last......first of all i just wanna say jaime lyn beatty is a literal god for performing the double role of sherman and sheila young here, she IS versatility in human form. however young at heart just isn't one of my favourite songs and sherman & frank really aren't as compelling characters to me as some other ones in the hatchetverse and i feel like it doesn't offer that much more lore to me.

i do find that there is a lot to be said about the way sheila holds frank & toy zone hostage with her money and it's yet another case of characters using their money for power and glory in hatchetfield and how those characters eventually become victims of the lords in black and characters that abuse their power. i still had so much to say about this even though it's last on this list and that also speaks to how GOOD this series is okay

12. perky's buds

this one is just absurd????? i truly think perky's buds, jane's a car and hey melissa are the holy trinity of batshit nmt episodes.

this is essentially the most we ever learn about the hatchetmen and their descendants (the metzgers) which makes me a little sad, that lore i am still a bit lost on and honestly the amount of lore (and this being grace chasity's first appearance in canon) is mostly the only reason i prefer this one over daddy. also the fact that joey richter plays a monotone talking bird + emma finally gets her pot farm (even if it all burns down in the end</3). this one is just a little silly to me and the song isn't my favourite either, it's a taste of characters (like the metzgers and ziggs) and lore about the history of hatchetfield and i just wish we knew more

11. forever and always

this is my official apology to paulkins nation for having this ep so low lmao sorry guys

if i'm being honest my favourite part about this episode is how it weaves together with time bastard. idk if i'm allowed to say this out loud because i fear i'll get crucified by starkid / hatchetverse people but honestly i'm not *that* invested in paulkins as a ship.......i love that in this iteration they are just so fucked up and weird, i remember in the hotel scene thinking there is NO way paul wouldn't kill emdroid here. she is an EVIL ANDROID!!!! and then the reveal that he's actually paul 23 made so much sense. anyway i like this one and i REALLY like the song!! it's so fun having such a heartfelt sounding song at the top of the episode and then it actually being so fucked up by the end.

10. hey, melissa!

tbh i wanted this one to be higher because it was SO absurd in a way perky's buds could never even fucking dream of, i truly want to know what possessed nick & matt lang to think that the side character who has maybe four lines in tgwdlm likes dehumanizing men and turning them into her pets???

all this being said i think hey melissa gets a bit of a bad rep in the fandom. i actually think it's a very interesting episode, i will never ever stop thinking about WHY paul makes the decision at the end as he does? i think there is so much to dissect there and in general about paul as a character in this episode. we really don't learn a lot about paul in tgwdlm and in contrast, in the timeline of hey melissa we hear an entire story from his childhood that clearly impacted him a lot? and it's something he thinks about to this day!

i also really wonder the question of if he hadn't told that story, would melissa still have him held captive?? obviously melissa is not a very reliable character in the early part of the story, but paul's memory clearly affects her a lot? does she actually lose faith in him in that moment? and that's why she decides to keep him as her dog (of course he doesn't end up being one lmao) ? i just think there's a lot to be said about this episode! still, i am def forever haunted by this and can't never hear it the same when humans say bark or meow. also what do you MEAN you'd have to NEUTER him to let him OUTSIDE

9. the hatchetfield ape-man

this one has such a special place in my heart for whatever reason<33 full disclosure angela as lucy stockworth is also maybe 80% of why this is higher than the others so far, it's just so fun seeing her play a character who seemingly is just so innocent and sweet and has such a big heart but then who's also very aware of what she's doing and schemes a bit herself. i can't believe this is the only iteration of lucy stockworth what is she doing in the other timelines. i want to know.

also idk why but the reveal that ted was just playing konk fucked me UP!!! like that was insane. also as the first episode that has the cast and nick & matt still figuring everything out it's just very sweet and heartwarming which you cant say about a lot of hatchetfield content<33 honestly no real explanations for this one i just love angela giarratana and also jamie lyn beatty for singing HERE'S A LITTLE STORY BOUT THE HATCHETFIELD APE-MAN

8. watcher world

the scenes with the sniggles???? genuinely horrifying. the idea in itself that someone is always watching is so creepy, i think blinky is maybe actually the most terrifying lord in black. at least he manages to have the most terrifying nmt episode. the fact that he somehow makes a father and daughter almost kill each other and wants to watch for his own enjoyment like........this one actually haunts me sm!!!! wtf is that scene with alice and the blinky mascot!!!!!!

it's also one of the only hatchetfield stories with a genuinely happy ending with basically no catch. and after bill and alice's tragic fate in tgwdlm i'm so glad they also get a good ending<33 it's also just so lovely to see them actually bond in this story and we learn a lot about alice !

this one also has so many songs and i am of the opinion that snoozle town is genuinely heartbreaking and the way angela can just do that while singing the most insane shit like "and we'll have two snoozles that can snozzle / our own bayou where the boogle boggles flow with goo" is beautiful

7. jane's a car

GOT MY FOOT ON THE GAS ok im SORRY im sorry its just. funny

tbh i am a little sad this gets reduced to the car sex episode, i think it does have a lot to say about navigating grief when you feel like you've finally been able to move on and live life again and suddenly the person you lost is back in your life. and they're also a car.

not to mention the ending???? is fucking terrifying????? poor becky quite literally dies and the "mommy's home" paired with the way the script narrates the moment as "becky sits down and jane smiles". like that's. cunt

anyway just to conclude i really wish more people understood the more compelling parts of this episode and not just tom fucks a car!!!! dont overstimulate the cupholders!!!!!

6. honey queen

i was GAGGED seeing the editing quality step up from nmt 1. this is truly the cuntiest nmt episode because we pit two beautiful queens each other and BOTH just fucking perish lmao (that editing step up also contributed so much to the final scene being so terrifying. it's an incredible introduction to nibbly and the scene being followed by the nibbly ditty is just SO gooooooooooooooood)

something i did already mention when talking about daddy is the continued sort of "motif" that rich people either still always lose to the lords in black or (something that i didn't bring up last time) they themselves are corrupt and have essentially sold their souls to the lords in black. like gerald & linda lie, cheat, steal and kill their way to win this pageant and yet. they still both die.

also also!!!!! i love that we learn how linda ended up so incredibly cold and uncaring. like it's not just from being rich as fuck, it's also trauma from being mocked, ridiculed and ignored throughout your entire childhood. i think roman murray might genuinely be the most evil character in hatchetfield and i loooove how jon matteson plays him. king shit

i also just love. gerald and linda. they are so fucked up and so perfect for each other. the way gerald helps her so much to sabotage the pageant and is her BIGGEST cheerleader, knows that deep down linda does not like her father and is afraid of him and literally gets himself killed essentially in support of her.............i love them.

5. time bastard

i'm gonna be honest i wasn't ted's biggest fan after tgwdlm so i didn't reaaaally understand the love i saw for him in the fandom, but after time bastard i really got it. time bastard actually fleshes out ted as a character and even though by the end he kind of is still a dumbass we do still learn a lot about him!! tinky and his little box are both objectively terrifying and being stuck in his box honestly sounds like a worse fate than hell. i feel bad for ted ngl

the reveal that homeless guy is ted spankoffski is also so insane. like the fact that these two exist in the same timeline a lot of the time is so interesting and also brings up the question of did the homeless guy ever try to go into ccrp and try to take his job back??? or did he just resign to his fate. we dont know. speaking of ccrp also learning more lore about what a fucked company it actually is super interesting, especially knowing they too tried to harness tinky's power.

my one and only gripe with time bastard is that it gets a little too complicated for me at some points but that's more a me problem, it just feels slightly hard to wrap my head around it while also connecting it to the events of forever and always. i do love complicated lore but this one fucks w my head sometimes

4. abstinence camp

as a grace chasity girl it is illegal for me to have this episode any lower than in the top 5. these top 4 episodes truly expose my favourite hatchetfield characters so bad lmao

god abstinence camp is SO funny!! the writing here is hilarious, just grace's first appearance is so silly and angela does such a stellar job. i love her in this role so much. along w her i'm so glad this story introduced us to boy jerry and girl jeri who i am begging to see again in another timeline like i need to see their backstory!! how did they find each other the first time and how did they end up abandoning their faith to have a child!!!! jon matteson and kim whalen are so good in these roles

we also cant talk about abstinence camp without mentioning that virginity rocks is objectively the BEST nmt song. jon and kim are serving absolute vocals it is such a banger and the fact that they paired it with axe man is so fucking sick

3. killer track

killer track is the only nmt episode so far that's made me actually cry. god. he was watching the fireworks.

to be completely honest i. don't even know what to comment on for this episode i'm just stuck in never ending holloweane brainrot. god he's so in love with her. AND SO AM I!!! miss holloway is such a compelling character and this nmt episode especially teases a lot about how she ended up the way she is. we also learn about her past and just like everything about her is so interesting to me, i love her protective nature but also that she's so calculated in her every move. and somehow always knows exactly what to do. also i love duke keane i can't leave him out of this

the concept of this episode is also just so viscerally horrifying, it's essentially something i used to have nightmares about like something scary that's ringing so loudly in your ears that nothing can block it out so this genuinely hit like a sort of irrational fear that i pretty much used to have as a kid. it's not so bad that i can't watch but still hit me in a sort of way that reminded me of my own fears. maybe that's also why i love miss holloway she would save me if i ever ended up in that situation

2. the witch in the web

i feel like witch in the web is very underrated?? i don't see a lot of people talking about it compared to some other episodes which i think is such a shame because it's so incredible

the scene where hannah thinks she's seeing lex and then it turns out to be the witch was SO spooky watching it the first time, seeing angela play out this sort of over-excited version of lex and it slooowly becoming more and more sinister is so insane especially with her pulling out the dolls of the lords in black. it's such a great scene!!

also the lore we learn about the witchwood forest and what originally happened to willabella muckwab and how the black book came to be is so integral to the entire lore, and i love the way it's told with hannah & miss holloway sort of walking in this old dreamlike world. plus the confrontation with wilbur cross in the starlight GOD this episode has so many cool moments and it can do so much because they're in nightmare time and not in actual hatchetfield most of the time. i do, however, despise the idea that lex foster is serving what FOUR years in prison in this timeline. dont do that to my girl

1. yellow jacket

the scene where hannah & ethan come home and lex is waiting for them, so disappointed in herself not only for forgetting hannah's birthday but also for failing the test, angry at ethan for not reminding her about hannah's birthday.....that scene is probably my favourite moment in the entire hatchetverse? angela just fucking blew me away she plays it so well and not to mention joey richter ethan just. kills

yellow jacket just had to be first here, i'm so invested in these relationships and their past and how it led them to where they are here, the way this episode portrays how hard it is for lex and ethan because they're just trying to survive on what little resources they have while lex is also taking care of hannah: she cares for her so much that she's wanted to move them out of their mom's trailer. of course hannah would feel responsible and maybe guilty because lex has so much to worry about, of course hannah wants to take the first opportunity she gets to make them copious amounts of money, of course she's willing to put herself in terrible danger, all to help lex.

i love seeing this perspective on hannah, especially since in black friday we mostly see lex (and ethan) protecting and saving hannah when she's in trouble (although she definitely can fend for herself a little!). in yellow jacket we really see how responsible hannah must feel. when her and ethan see the ipad as a possible prize, her first thought isn't all the fun things you could use the ipad for, it's how much money they could get selling it. she doesn't understand the sheer danger of fighting pokey, which makes sense since she doesn't know that that is quite literally an eldritch god, she just wants to support lex.

this episode is just incredible in its every element: the portrayal of the characters, the story and the way it talks about the influence that money has on people's lives. not to mention watching literal children fight each other for entertainment. it's brutal but the core relationships are what eventually survive despite the circumstances

well. this was long

[taylortruther]

Hi, its Shakespearean anon. Thanks for responding so thoughtfully (and it did not come across as argumentative at all!!!) Okay, so a couple thoughts:

I don't criticize Taylor for being a romantic/romanticizing her life. I wouldn't change that about her because its one of things that makes her such a brilliant and compelling songwriter. It is also just a nice quality to have, and I think she brings a lot of light and passion and love to the world because of it. Hell, I bet Shakespeare himself had these qualities!!

I agree, if it wasn't her creating her own narrative then it would be the media. Historically it has been the media creating the image we saw of most pop stars and essentially telling their story for them.

For most of Taylor's career she has had to combat that, which I would agree is certainly an external issue. It is an issue I would argue Taylor has for the most part overcome/made peace with. I think she accepts that there will be prying eyes in her life. I don't think Joe ever accepted that and I don't think he ever wanted it. To commit to a relationship with Taylor he had to compromise that he would, to some degree, have prying eyes on his life. I wouldn't really classify that as the world going against their relationship though because that's not anything to do with the relationship but the nature of Taylor's life.

I don't fault Joe for not wanting his relationship or private life put under a microscope. That's a hell of a trade off to make for the person you love. What he was risking was his comfort, his lifestyle, his normal; none of those are small things but (in my mind) a Shakespearean sacrifice needs to be drastic.

Now this is just my amature literary analysis of what makes something Shakespearean and I by no means expect or want Taylor (or any other artist) to adhere to it lol. I think if the resulting situation is just living in limbo, working to preserve the compromises you made to get together, it just isn't drastic enough to be Shakespearean. If Joe gave up his need for privacy or Taylor gave up her drive for fame, then it would certainly be Shakespearean. But that didn't happen, and the result was akin to a city person and a country person just agreeing to live in the suburbs where neither liked the result but hey at least it could be worse!

Anyway, my original point in the original post was wondering why as a storyteller, Taylor kept revisiting the beginning of the relationship. I think in a lot of ways the beginning saga was Shakespearean and romantic and a hero's journey of sort for Taylor, and I understood why she wrote about it the way she did and focused on it the way she did during rep. It really is a good narrative from a storytelling perspective and I think rep being disguised as a love album is why it is one of her best albums narratively. Even on Lover I can see the argument for it, because it ties into the theme of the album. BUT when you look at where they ended up, even just three years in, I think a lot of the romantic/heroic narrative falls apart. Years in, I think it was hard for her to put that Shakespearean shine over their current (at the time) relationship. Almost every song about them was her relationship anxiety or how they got together. It almost feels like Taylor could write about the struggles they faced and eventually overcame together, but not the actual growth. Although that may be reflective of the fact that it appears there was a lot of stagnation and then backtracking and then reconciliation in the relationship, so maybe there were not very many periods of just contentment. Also, I can fully admit that maybe narratively Taylor just prefers the more conflict oriented stories.

Wow I cannot believe I just wrote that much - thanks for always pushing for some interesting discussions. (and I've never used the word Shakespearean so much before lol)

i see where you're coming from. i don't agree with some of this but it was interesting to chew on nonetheless!

tbh i just think humans create stories and narratives - we all do it - so i don't know if i'd ever try to determine if taylor's life "warranted" a specific narrative, because... those narratives don't have strict rules. they're devices she uses to tell us the story of what happened. so i don't think i'd ever think "well, WAS the world really against her? this doesn't fit an us vs them narrative" because it's more satisfying to think, "taylor felt the world was against her, how does she describe that in her art?"

however i agree with you that part of the reason she focused on the early days might have been because she wasn't sure how to process what was going on later on. which is partly why ttpd is going to be such a ride. it feels like she kind of circled around the last few years... but ttpd sounds like it will be catching us up.

thanks for writing so much bestie, i had fun reading it.

[moderndavetherapy]

Changes

The epitome of life.

One of the most feared, yet yearned actions we humans face habitually.

My favorite Tupac song, even if he ripped it from Bruce Hornsby and the Range.

Before I go down the rabbit hole and dive deep beneath the surface that has been null and void, lets get a few things straight...

The sole point of this blog is to naturally convey the endless thoughts that occur in my mind in an organized fashion that helps me express myself and that others may relate to or enjoy.

The primary reason for creating a blog and posting is to remain disciplined. Yes, I could simply write in a journal or tell myself that I'll write five-hundred words two times a week, but lets face it... by the second week I'll be cheating myself and burning $2.99 on a porous pile and papers bound by sticky tape from Walmart.

In a universe where more people are familiar with ChatGPT and Love Island than a foreign language or the seven wonders of the world, I strive to bring back raw journalism to help others use their brains to think clearly for themselves and ponder common thoughts.

Lastly, in an era of Artificial Intelligence, the common practice of reading and writing has been reduced significantly to a point in which I feel the need enhance my writing skills before I turn into a drooling mongoloid with the vocabulary skills of a toddler.

Alright my actual last point, the words I write are not intended to target any specific person, gain followers, or acquire likes by any means. If you're still reading this, I'm sure I lost a few people by now, and actually find pleasure or peace from my insight...then the least I can do is say thank you. This blog is not for anyone, but myself. However, I am always willing to share ideas, laughs, stories and bond with others on this journey to a better self. I appreciate your support!

So, without further ado, welcome to ModernDaveTherapy! A fresh look at life's common conundrums in an utterly raw fashion.

As I sit by my kitchen island and reflect upon my last day of work, I stare down and notice my chewed up fingernails graciously glide across the keyboard clicking and clacking like a jazzy tap dancer in the roaring 20s. It didn't make sense to me, but I immediately fixated on a small insecurity, rather than vast changes that are about to alter my life. The simple thought of a perfect fingernail conquered all other thoughts from changing jobs, to changing living arrangements, to changing self-sabotaging intoxicating actions into disciplined routine of self-growth, all in a matter of seconds. In this very moment, I became vulnerable to the unknown future and acquired a heaping dose of determination to not bite my fingernails...as pathetic as that might sound.

Enough with all the bullshit. I truly believe that the beauty of change resides in the journey of new discovery or the path in which we take to purposely develop a better self or situation. It's immaculate to watch the leaves alter their colors in the midst of autumn, right before they die to the harshness of winter. Let's be realistic though, some us live in the desert and find our life of leaves being pummeled by the 120 degree summer heat that forces a much more antagonistic change than the previous fairy tale. No matter which method of madness may occur, one thing will always stay true... There is always something to learn from every action, no matter the significance.

I reminisced upon my time working at a beverage distributor, engaging in a never-ending battle between the positive glorious memories of happiness and bliss being bogged down by the calamity of corporate culture creating chaos and a lack of control. I started questioning my decision of CHANGE, wondering if something new was worth the so called habitual routine I have endured the past 18 months. Rather than weigh the pros and cons, my mind immediately transported me to my previous occupation. One of the last times I was forced to CHANGE.

Before I CHANGED into a beverage sales rep, I was a scam artist in a cult. My apologies, I sold private health insurance to people that either couldn't afford it or probably weren't healthy enough to acquire the plan. I began my day around 3:45AM every morning with a breakfast of white lines and prescription pills, followed by a shower and a Jimmy Dean Egg White Delight. After robotically calling hundreds of people and spamming their phone with several texts from multiple phones, it was time to refuel for lunch. I binged on fast food, nose nachos, and amphetamines to prep me for another grueling afternoon of begging innocent individuals for their banking and routing information.

I endured twelve months of this paradoxical prison before questioning my own reality. It all began with a simple CHANGE of thought. A minuscule thought developed into a series of small CHANGES that eventually led into what I felt was freedom. Before I knew it, the shackles had abandoned me and the CHANGES I decided upon granted me with a new life.

As I shifted back to this very present moment, I easily recognized the importance of change. Without change, we leave no room for growth and learning. Every change in my life has resulted in something resourceful, even if it has been painful in the process. Changing locations across country, career paths across industries, hobbies and even homies; has created this adventure called life and led me one step closer to understanding who the fuck I actually am.

The debate of pondering if I made the right decision concluded rapidly. The fear of change abruptly disappeared. The recollection of past perfection transduced into a simple message, "Nothing lasts forever, but more will readily come." I immediately embraced the changes that the future held, knowing that I was ready for a new adventure and that it was time to move on.

I think it's funny to fear change. It's easy to get lost in the depths of contentment, but as time endures it transforms into anguish. As the peace of reality slowly turns to turmoil, a change must be made. After all has been learned and growth has been stunted, a change must be made. When boredom strikes, a change must be made.

As I glanced back at my fingertips I glared at the imperfections. The callous cuticles overtook my thoughts one last time. Instead of dwelling on the flaws of past actions, I decided to embrace change and learn from previous mistakes. By taking a different path, I should end up in a different place. Who knows, maybe in a month I'll have fingernails and actually have a use for nail trimmer or clipper or whatever its fucking called.

Most people don't like change, but that's normal. The sooner change is embraced, the sooner the fear leaves. It's not easy, but it's inevitable. I think this new job is gonna be just fine.

[deaniewithalittleweanie]

I need to hype up my personal trainer.

Imagine this. 5’6” blond man shaped like a dorito who wears 3” inseam shorts on his massive legs every day. Says “fuck yeah” in response to anything positive. Always chewing gum.

Anyway I’ve been working out with him for 2 months now. I was worried when I started out that it was gonna be super weight-focused and that I would get encouraged to starve myself or over exercise. Nah. Not my man.

Went in today and we did measurements (we do them once a month). Ngl I was nervous because I had a doctor’s appointment yesterday and knew I hadn’t lost a single pound. I haven’t been in the gym as much this month so I was worried I wasn’t gonna make much progress.

I hop on the ultra fancy scale and see exactly what I saw yesterday. I tense up, but my personal trainer looks at the other readings and immediately shouts “FUCK YEAH DUDE” because my body fat went down while my muscle percentage went up. It really wasn’t by much but he did not give a shit. He starts hyping me the fuck up and gets another personal trainer in on it. They’re fist bumping me and hollering. It was great.

Then we have our actual workout session and all of my weights get increased. I did the same number of reps I did on our first session but with weights that are 10lbs heavier. The whole time my trainer is pumped as fuck and so hyped.

It was fucking great and I feel so motivated to continue because not once has anyone in this gym ever guilt tripped me about my decisions.

[bluejaysandblackbats]

The Brother Trap

Fandom: DC Comics, Flashfam

Summary: Owen wants to connect with his half-brothers for the first time. Luckily for him, they all go to the same university. Will bad blood between twins keep Owen from the family of his dreams, or is he the missing piece they've always needed?

Chapters: 3/?

Characters: Owen Mercer, Axel Walker, Thad Thawne, Bart Allen, Meloni Thawne, Deborah Morgna, Preston Lindsay, President Thaddeus Thawne Mention

Relationships: Owen Mercer/Axel Walker, Thad Thawne/Deborah Morgna, PrestonBart

Additional Tags: POV Third Person, College AU, Angst and Fluff, Family Dynamics, Family Issues, No Powers AU

Chapter Three: Reps

Owen met up with Axel at the gym to work out. They did medicine ball passes, but Owen couldn't focus. "Owen, I think it's a little late in our friendship for you to start building my self-esteem," Axel teased. Owen stopped and looked Axel in the eyes. "What's up with you? You've been weird ever since you ditched me at that party." Owen chewed his lip. "I don't have a brother," Owen whispered. Axel frowned and opened his mouth to apologize. "I—. Jeez, Owen. I'm sorry... I know how much it meant to you—." "I have two," Owen interrupted as a smile spread across his face. Axel punched Owen in the arm and laughed. "I met one of them at the party the other night. Get this... They're identical twins." Axel screwed up his face. "What?" "Twins? Don't you think that's gonna get a little messy?" Axel questioned. "They don't get along... And they don't know I'm their brother. I chased him down after the party and took him to get a kid's meal. Then, he slept over," Owen replied. Axel tapped Owen's calf, and they resumed their workout. "And you know what? When Thad woke up yesterday morning, he lingered around like he didn't want to leave. We had pizza, and I invited him to play rugby on Thursday, but I don't think he knows what that is." "Are you gonna tell him that you're brothers?" Axel asked. Owen shrugged. "Are you scared?" "Hell no, I'm not—. I mean, kinda... He doesn't seem like he's interested in having another brother, but he does need a friend," Owen whispered. Axel put the medicine ball back, and he messed up Owen's hair. "Wanna hit the showers?" Axel teased. "I think I wanna hit the treadmill," Owen answered. Axel extended a hand to Owen to help him up. He playfully pulled Axel down and embraced him. "You have class or something?" Axel smiled and settled into Owen's embrace. "Well, when you put it like that," Axel joked, "I can stay for another half hour." Owen smiled and let go of Axel, and they walked towards the treadmills. Axel kept pace at a light jog, but Owen cycled from a light jog to a sprint and back. Owen's brother strolled into the gym and got on the treadmill next to Owen. He had his headphones in, and Owen was focused on the people walking outside the window. Axel reached over and nudged Owen. "What? You caught a cramp or something?" Owen asked. When Axel didn't answer him, he turned. Axel pointed his eyes in Owen's brother's direction. Owen turned and nudged his brother. He pulled one of his earbuds out and looked at Owen. "Thad?" "Nuh-uh," Bart replied as he yanked off his hat. Owen slowed to a brisk walk. "Bart." He reached out and shook Owen's hand. "Owen. Guess I'm oh-for-two. I saw you at some of the track meet a week or two ago," Owen whispered. "What event?" Bart asked. "Four-hundred-meter dash and the hurdles. You're pretty fast. Axel, this is Bart. Remember him from the hurdles?" Owen asked. Axel nodded. "I've seen you too. Rugby, right?" Bart asked. Owen smiled and nodded. He was at a loss for words. He didn't expect to see Bart so soon after Thad. "Why'd you think I was Thad?" Axel wrinkled his forehead, and Owen cocked his head. "Because you guys are identical... And I just talked to him this weekend," Owen answered. He thought Bart was a little odd too, but maybe odd was okay. "Oh, well, that makes sense," Bart replied. They grew silent and went back to their workouts.

After half an hour, Axel went to class, leaving Owen alone with Bart. "Wanna get something to eat? Or do you have class?" Bart asked. Owen grabbed his gym bag. "I don't have class until late. I think the cafeteria is still serving breakfast," Owen suggested. Bart smiled, and they left the gym together. At first glance, Bart and Thad weren't that different from each other. Then again, Thad was drunk when they met. Bart was just trusting like this sober. Bart started talking to him as if they'd known each other forever. Some of what Bart was saying was a bit much, but Owen didn't mind. "I mean, if it were you and your mom, you wouldn't think it was weird if she dated... Would you?" Bart asked. "Uh... I don't really know my mom," Owen confessed. Bart stopped in his tracks, and there was silence. "I mean, she's still alive. I've just never—." "I should've thought about it before I spoke. I'm sorry," Bart apologized. Owen rubbed the back of his neck and shrugged it off. "No, I'm sorry. I can be a real airhead sometimes." "No, it's okay. It's no big deal," Owen whispered. Bart awkwardly offered Owen his other earbud. Owen took it just to be nice, but the music wasn't to his taste. Bart was quiet after that. Owen felt bad, so he playfully punched Bart. "You and your twin are some strange characters." "What do you know about my twin? Did he talk to you about me?" Bart asked. "Well, not really, no. I met Thad at a party this weekend, and we hung out. I think he was a little out of sorts," Owen explained. He held the door open for Bart as they walked into the cafeteria. They ordered and paid for breakfast, and Bart sat across from him at the table. They'd both ordered the same thing. Bart's phone vibrated, and he took his other earbud from Owen and answered his phone. "What do you want?" Bart snapped as he answered his phone. "You're gonna have to come and get it. I'm eating breakfast in the cafeteria... I didn't do it on purpose to make you late... And you say that like I asked to be roommates with you... Okay, I'll be here. Bye." Owen wiped his mouth and took a sip of his orange juice. "Was that your brother?" Owen asked. He knew the answer when he asked, but he felt the need to say something. "Yeah... Sometimes our stuff gets mixed up, and I grab his notes instead of mine. He gets all pissed off about it," Bart mumbled. Owen nodded and went back to eating his breakfast. He wasn't ready to be around his brothers all at once, so he rushed through breakfast and put his number in Bart's phone. Owen had to shower before class anyway.

[jazwritesalot]

mother tongue

Pairing: Utsushimi Camie/Jirou Kyouka. Camie/Jirou Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia, My Hero Academia Rating: Mature Word Count: 4.268 Tags: nudity, implied sexual content, imprisonment, implied KiriBaku, Cyberpunk

Link to AO3

Summary: Written for the 2022/2023 NOVA PULSE Zine/ @novapulsezine

The first time she laid eyes on her, she was taken aback by just how beautiful she was. Sure, meeting one another during a client call gone wrong probably wasn’t the best place for a romance to start, but damn it, who was Jirou to choose her fate?

“Overhaul, you rat bastard. Why is a Shiketsu rep here?” she seethed into the comm, blood boiling even more when all she got back was a sinister chuckle. 

“Whoops? My bad.” The voice was as distorted as always, making it hard for Jirou to pinpoint who exactly was behind the dastardly mask of Overhaul and the Hassaikai. Before she could bark out any more questions, the line went dead, vision filling with the infamous mask. 

“That mother fucker.” Now she was stuck in public with a member of Shiketsu’s mod team. If Endeavor were to hear about this. Scratch that—she knew he knew. That asshole had eyes and ears everywhere. Fuck.

“Well, aren’t you just a cutie?” the blonde teased, making herself more comfortable in the booth. 

“Why are you so calm about this? Overhaul could start a war between Yuuei and Shiketsu at this rate.” Hell, the plan was probably already in motion, if Jirou were to take a guess. 

“I’m just along for the ride, darling. Besides, I killed comms with Inasa the moment I saw Overhaul wasn’t here. What, and who, I do in my free time is my business, and mine alone.” The cheshire-like grin and her words made Jirou run hot, her face flaming despite the cool temperature of the restaurant. She should be rational! She’s the head rep for Yuuei, for All Might’s sake! But, as she shot a quick glance at the other woman, she felt herself falter. Shouldn’t she be allowed some fun and freedom herself?

“Now, I don’t know about you, but I’m about to enjoy a nice meal and put it on his tab. Whatcha think? Care to join a lonely ol’ woman?” The wink sent her way made her pause. She could enjoy a day to herself, right?

“To hell with it,” Jirou sighed, turning off her own comm and grabbing the wine glass. “To Overhaul, for fucking us both over,” she toasted, loving the sound that come from the other lady. Her laugh was just as beautiful as she was. 

“To us. And the world of possibilities that await.” As they clinked their glasses together, Jirou came to the realization that 1) she didn’t know this woman’s name, and 2) she didn’t care because she was already smitten. She was royally fucked. 

The next morning found Jirou waking up next to the blonde—whose name was Camie—with her comms still killed. Fuck. She was about to get her ass chewed for this. Not only did she fail to do what she was assigned to do, she went off and fraternized with the enemy without checking in at all. Endeavor was going to have her head, if Iida didn’t get to her first. 

Gathering her clothes, she gave a quick kiss to Camie’s forehead before redressing and sneaking out of the plush penthouse suite; Shiketsu really cared for their reps, it seemed. As soon as she was out of the building, she turned the comms back on and prepared for the torrent. 

“Do you have any idea how worried we were about you?” Iida’s voice came flooding in first, making Jirou have to bite back a groan. Of course it would be Iida. 

“Sorry Tenya. I forgot.” She needed to get back to her hole in the wall and take a shower, the grime of night catching up to her. 

“Forgot? You don’t just turn your comms off and forget to turn them back on, Jirou!”

“Oh come on, Iida. Kacchan used to turn his comms off all the time,” Midoriya’s voice chimed into the call, which made Jirou breathe a sigh of relief. If anyone could calm Iida down, it would be him. 

“And may I remind you that your brother defected from Yuuie to live a life of crime? Not a shining example, Midoriya.” Jirou could practically see Iida’s hand moving through the air in his signature chop. 

“I don’t need to be reminded, thank you very much. Just cut Jirou some slack, okay? I’ve been netrunning and it seems as though Overhaul is fucking both us and Shiketsu over. It’s not her fault that yesterday was botched.” 

“I’m sure that’s what Shiketsu wants us to think,” Endeavor cut in, causing the conversation to come to a halt quickly. Of course he would be listening to their comms. Why wouldn’t he be? 

“No, sir. Midoriya is right. Overhaul—” 

“Jirou, I would like to see you in my office. Now.” Endeavor’s command cut Jirou off before the call went dead for all parties involved. Jirou sighed loudly, turning away from the door of her apartment complex and heading down the street toward Yuuei’s headquarters. So much for getting a shower in before having to deal with her boss’s bullshit. And she was pretty sure she smelled of stale sweat and fruity perfume. Fuckin’ fantastic. 

As she did her walk of shame through the doors of Yuuei, Jirou mused about how horrible the company had become since All Might’s retirement. She missed his jovial disposition and the way that he actually had a passion for all things tech. She could tell that Endeavor was just in it for the money—he couldn’t give a shit about making sure the tech was good. So she didn’t blame Bakugou one bit for disappearing deep into the net. She yearned to be able to do that herself, but she had no idea how to even go about it. 

“Maybe one day . . .” she muttered to herself as she stepped out of the elevator and stopped short in front of her boss’s office. It was now or never, she supposed. 

“Come in, Jirou,” his voice boomed through the door before she could even knock. She steeled herself, pushing the wooden doors open and coming face-to-face with her boss. The man sat intimidatingly behind an oak desk, hands folded under his chin, his cybernetic eye piercing through her. She was pretty sure he was reading her vitals, looking for any sign already that she was pulling a fast one on him.

“You wanted to see me, sir?” She hated how timid her voice sounded. But, how could she not be timid around him? She had heard horror stories of the business executive from Todoroki. Of how callous and cruel he could be, especially when he didn’t get his way. And she was sure that what she was going to tell him would enrage him. 

“Why did you cut your comms with everyone yesterday?” Blunt. That was one thing she appreciated about the asshole—she wouldn’t have to waste her breath on idle conversations. But she found herself floundering. What would she tell him that he would believe?

“Overhaul had me cut comms to make sure I wasn’t double crossing him.” The lie rolled easily off the tongue. 

“Nice try. After you went AWOL, he reached out to me, stating that you never met with him at the restaurant.”

“That lying sack of . . . he was the one who never came! It was a set up! The only one who met me there was a Shiketsu rep, who also had been told to meet that slimy bastard there.” She was seething. What a lowlife they were dealing with! 

“You expect me to believe that it was a set up when you show up to my office covered in hickeys and reeking of sex and perfume? Get a grip, Jirou.” 

It was a slap to the face, but one that she couldn’t say she didn’t deserve. If only she had left Camie’s place earlier, maybe then she would have had a chance to make herself presentable before diving headfirst into the shit storm that was dealing with Endeavor.

“Your silence proves a point. But if you’re insisting that we’ve been set up, then the only logical response would be to believe that Shiketsu was the one orchestrating it so they can sweep the sale from beneath our feet.” A sharp glare cut off the protests that were bubbling up from her. “I’m going to move Shouto to the Overhaul deal.”

“But sir, with all due respect, that’s my area of expertise, and my sale, that I’ve been working on for months.”

“Should have thought about that before fraternizing with the enemy, Jirou. Now, leave.” The finality of his statement caused her to quit fiddling with her ear mods and stare at him in shock. Months of work all down the drain because of a lying bastard and nepotism. Fucking fantastic.

Jirou stormed out of the office with tears fresh in her eyes. She ignored a call from Midoriya, not wanting to deal with his questioning at this moment. She didn’t want to deal with anyone from Yuuei, and if she were being completely honest with herself, there was only one person she was willing to be around right now. But she couldn’t now, could she?

As life would seem to have it, she could. Camie was the first one to initiate contact with her, the multitude of emojis making Jirou laugh out loud to herself in her hole in the wall. Jirou continued to ignore calls from Midoriya, Todoroki, and Iida, opting instead to text with Camie and occasionally call her just so she could hear the blonde’s voice. It wasn’t like Jirou was falling for her or anything. (A lie, she knew, but she wasn’t ready to admit it to herself yet).

A month had passed since the failed mission, and Jirou was on cloud nine. Things had become more steady with Camie, up to the point they were planning a quick elopement. Never before had Jirou felt so connected to someone in such a short amount of time. And who was to say she was moving too fast? Everything else in her life was spiraling, so shouldn’t she be allowed to have a shred of happiness?

Their second official meeting came, and with it brought two visitors. Jirou didn’t have to do much to convince Todoroki to join her as a witness to the handfasting. . . he took it as an opportunity to piss his father off more. And with Camie came one of her best friends and fellow coworkers, Inasa. 

Jirou probably should have worried about being on the seedier side of town, especially since they found their priestess through questionable means . . . the Dominatrix looked at the two of them like she wanted to eat them alive. But, a priestess is a priestess, especially in dire situations.

The ceremony was small and quick, the two of them exchanging vows and a passionate kiss while the two men watched the union, their own brands of excitement shining through for the women. As they left the shoddy altar located in the back room of an even seedier brothel, their smiles were contagious. They were married! Sure, they were young. And sure, they barely knew one another. But that’s the crazy thing about love . . . it makes one jump headfirst into asinine situations.

The shitty thing about getting married so impulsively was that they weren’t able to have a honeymoon like they so desired. They both still had work to attend to the next day, even if Jirou had been delegated to errand girl now that she was kicked off the Overhaul deal. It just meant that they had to make use of what little time of their wedding night they had left.

They bid the men farewell, Camie picking Jirou up in her arms as they walked through the threshold of her cozy penthouse apartment, eager to get the celebrations started. And who was Jirou to stop her beautiful bride?

The next morning came with a dull headache from too much liquor and being met with a radiant smile.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” Camie teased, leaning forward to steal a kiss from Jirou that left her breathless and craving for more time. But that was the bitch of it . . . time. It wasn’t long before they would have to part ways, pretending to be enemies to those who had control over them. It just wasn’t fair.

“We should leave,” Jirou blurted out in a panic as the two of them dressed. Camie cocked her head to the side, reminiscent of the puppy that Jirou had long ago, waiting for her to further explain herself. “We should go off grid. So deep into the net that no one can find us. I hate having to pretend that I can’t stand you. I hate that these corporations have us so twisted up in their webs that loving one another is a crime. I fuckin’ hate it, Camie.” Jirou was sobbing at this point, but she couldn’t help it.

Camie wrapped her arms around Jirou, pulling her into her ample bust, and shushed her while wiping away her tears. “I’d be down, babe. But it’s not as simple as just running away. You and I both know that. Lemme see what I can do with some of my sources, alright?” Jirou could only nod her head, hoping that somehow, someway, Camie was going to be able to get them out of this mess.

They returned to their lives outside of their bubble of bliss, Jirou dreading work as always. And then there was Midoriya, who was eyeing her too critically. Always looking like he knew too much information all the time. Like he could see into her very being.

“Jirou, we need to talk,” he urged, pulling her into a dimly lit conference room and locking the door behind him. All she could do was cock her brow at him and wait as patiently as she could as he muttered under his breath for minutes on end.

“I was running the net this morning, checking on Shiketsu lines per Endeavor’s request, and I came across this: Shiketsu is preparing to siege Yuuei,” he stated bluntly. “I’m not entirely sure what happened, but Overhaul attacked them. Told them he was put up to it by Endeavor. Now they’re livid and preparing a counterstrike.”

“So? Let the bastard get what he deserves.” Jirou couldn’t even begin to fathom why this was her problem.

“Overhaul attacked Camie, Jirou. I’m not sure how critical of a condition she’s in, but he used her as a weak link.” Static filled Jirou’s ears. Her beloved, she couldn’t be. Could she? Mere hours ago they were intertwined in bed, and now she’s been hurt? Because of some stupid corporate game that should have been called off from the moment Jirou tried to warn Endeavor about Overhaul? 

She was hurt. She was livid. And most of all . . . she wanted revenge. 

“Jirou, come to my office now,” Endeavor’s voice called to her via comms and she was more than ready to go face the bastard. 

“Jirou! Be careful!” Midoriya called after her as she stomped away, but she didn’t pay any mind to what he was saying. What’s the worst that he could do to her anyway? She stormed into his office, fire in her veins. He glared at her over the expanse of his desk, but this time she wouldn’t stand down.

“What did you want to see me about now?” she asked in a clipped voice. What she wanted to do was leave, find Camie, and make sure her wife was alright. Was that too much to ask?

“How long have you and Utsushimi been trapezing under my nose?” 

“That’s none of your business.”

“It is my business, Kyoyka. Especially when her specialty is creating corruption software.” Jirou scoffed out a laugh, knowing full well that her wife’s specialty was actually creating anti-corruption software, but of course Overhaul would feed some bullshit like that to try and create a further rift between the two companies. 

“And what if she did create that? How does that have anything to do with me?”

“You’re too close to her, Jirou. She’s corrupted you, and I won’t stand for it.”

“She hasn’t corrupted me at all, you asshole. Don’t talk about my wife like that.” Fuck. She didn’t mean to say that. Endeavor’s eyes widened and she knew that she had royally fucked herself over. 

“That’s it, Jirou. You’re too much of a liability now. It’s time to do what I should have done at the beginning of this operation.” He pushed a button on his desk, one that Jirou was all too familiar with. Surely he couldn’t be calling security on her? Armed guards entered the office, surrounding Jirou and cuffing her despite her protests and resistance. 

“I’m sorry to have to do this, but it’s for your best interest.” The bastard didn’t even sound sorry at all as she was led to the basement of the facility, past a wide-eyed Midoriya, a shocked Iida, and a blank-faced Todoroki. She was shoved roughly into the cell, being treated more like a criminal than an employee, and once again she found herself wishing that she could just escape the hellscape that her life had become. 

She wasn’t sure how long she had been down in her prison cell—time seemed to blend together to the point that she didn’t even care how long she had been there. It wasn’t like she was allowed any visitors. She was an employee, and the bastard couldn’t even pop for a cush place for her to rot. Dickhead. At this point she even missed Iida’s antics. Most of all, she missed Camie. Her comms were jammed down here, and after the first night of trying, she gave up trying to reach out to her. If she was even alive. Midoriya’s words of her being attacked kept playing through her mind, plaguing her. They should have never gone into work that morning. Maybe then their situations wouldn’t be so fucked. 

She was sitting, wallowing in self-pity, when she heard a commotion outside of her cell. Indifference and apathy ran through her—maybe Shiketsu finally attacked, ready for their revenge. Hell, maybe it was Overhaul and his crew. Maybe they would end things for her quickly and she could finally reunite with her beloved. 

“I think she’s in here.” Todoroki’s voice rang out, causing her to sit up in confusion. Why would he be down here? The door to her cell slid open and apprehension crept up her spine. What if it was a trap? She had no reason to distrust her friend, but she was still cautious. Especially when Inasa entered the room, his hulking frame filling up the tiny space. 

“What are you doing here?” Confusion laced her tone. She met the man only once, but she was surprised to see Todoroki trusting him so fully and wholeheartedly. 

“Came to rescue you!” His voice was booming, taking up as much space as he was.

“We don’t have much time before my father figures out what we’ve done. Come on Jirou.” Todoroki’s words brooked no argument and she found herself nodding, following along as they ran past knocked out security guards. 

“Why are you two working together?” Jirou finally asked as they cleared yet another level of the building, Todoroki in the lead as he led them to freedom. 

“I owed Camie a favor. And I’ve known Inasa since high school. Since before the League.” This was news to Jirou, and as much as she wanted to stop them and make them tell her what the hell was going on, she knew that they were working on borrowed time. 

“We need to get her to Midoriya quickly. The time for the extraction is closing in, Shouto.” Extraction? What the hell was going on??

“I’m aware. We just need to get outside and then Midoriya will take it from there.” They rounded the corner and came face to face with another set of guards. Fuck. 

“Keep going! I’ve got these small fry!” Inasa’s yelling was accompanied by the hissing of his hands turning into canons, a large gust of wind exploding out of each to knock down the sentries. As fascinated as Jirou was with his tech, she had to look the other way and keep running alongside Todoroki. She wasn’t going to squander this chance at freedom.

They cleared the last door, the polluted skies a welcomed greeting to her. Midoriya wasn’t the one waiting for them, however. Instead, it was Iida, who was already on his motorcycle, the engine revved and waiting. 

“Tell Camie I say hello,” Todoroki stated as she hopped on behind Iida, and her heart skipped a beat. Camie, her beloved. She was safe! Before she could respond, Iida took off, zipping through the streets. The neon signs were but a blur as he weaved in and out of traffic, leading her further away from the heart of Mustafu toward the slummier districts. The ones where people went to disappear. 

“Nice to have you back, Jirou,” Midoriya’s voice filled her ears as the comms finally escaped the jammer from Yuuei. 

“Nice to be back. Now, you gonna tell me what the hell is going on?” 

“Not enough time right now. Iida, you’ve got 4 kilometers to go. Make sure to get her to us in one piece.” At that, Jirou finally looked behind her and was shocked to see Yuuei’s tower engulfed in flames. Guess Shiketsu finally did strike. Panic for Inasa and Todoroki briefly passed through her, but she quickly stifled it. They were resourceful—there was no way they’d let themselves get caught. 

Iida turned a corner down a dark alleyway in the heart of what had to be the League’s territory, and Jirou felt her heart jump to her throat. Just what had Midoriya planned for her?

“It was nice knowing you, Jirou. Please take care.” Iida was stiff and formal as ever, but she could sense the tears he wouldn’t shed in front of her. His words felt like a death sentence as she dismounted the bike and made her way further down the alley. All fears went out the window at the sight of an uninjured Camie standing next to a frantic looking Midoriya. 

“Camie!” Jirou cried out as she ran toward the other woman. Camie’s face lit up, embracing Jirou the moment she was close enough. The smell of incense and perfume surrounded her, filling her with warmth and comfort as she closed the distance with a passionate kiss. 

“I thought I’d, like, never see you again, babe,” Camie gasped as they finally pulled apart, breathless. 

“Same. I’m so glad you’re alright. What even happened?” Jirou wanted answers. She wanted to know just how much revenge she needed to take against Overhaul when this was all said and done. 

“As much as I know you want to hear the story, we don’t have the time right now. I need to get you to the extraction point ASAP, otherwise he’s gonna kill me,” Midoriya cut in, ruining the romantic moment. 

“Who will kill you?” Great, just who did they make a deal with that made Midoriya terrified? He chose to ignore her question, leading the two of them further out from the district and closer to the ports. Once they reached their destination, she felt her heart drop out of her ass. There was no way . . .

“Oi! Fucker! Took you long enough!” Bakugou barked out as he stomped toward them. The ship behind him was huge —how in the name of All Might did port authorities not see it coming? 

“Sorry Kacchan! There was a hiccup at the office.”

“I’m sure Baldy and Icy Hot fucked something up. No surprise there,” he scoffed before looking over at Camie. “Tits, what a displeasure to see you.” 

“Don’t be mean, Baku-babe! You’ve missed me!” Camie pouted, which caused Jirou to snicker, even though she was confused as hell. Just how many of her friends did Camie actually know?

“Yeah, like a hole in the head.” He looked at Jirou then. “Good to see you again, Ears. Been a while.” What a fucking understatement. Last time she saw him, he was defecting for a life of crime and passion with the notorious Blood Riot. Realization dawned on her the longer she looked at him. That meant . . .

“Welcome to your new home, you heathens.” His grin was manic, and the energy was contagious. “Make your goodbyes quick, Deku. We gotta scram before the shields collapse. Sparky can’t seem to figure out why the fuck they keep crashing.” 

“Please be safe, you two. It was nice to meet you, Camie. And Jirou, I’ll miss you. But you’ll be in good hands. If you ever need anything, you know where to find me.” Midoriya’s sincerity made Jirou tear up as she squeezed him close briefly. 

“Thank you,” she whispered, stepping back and taking Camie’s hand in her own. As they boarded the ship behind Bakugou, Jirou felt the weight of the world fall off her shoulders. Finally, she was free of the expectations that her life had pressed down on her with. And now she could live in peace with her beloved. As they prepared for launch, she placed a kiss against Camie’s hand, thankful that she could spend this new eternity with her. Wherever this crazy life was about to take them, she was ready to face it head on with her wife by her side. As Mustafu became a blur in the distance, she realized that this was it. She was finally free.

[alchemist-of-chaos]

dull ache

warnings: mentions of disordered eating, overexertion

character: Izuku Midorya

just a little more. that was the only thought reverbetating in your brain as you put your all into it. just one more. just a few more reps. you huffed as your legs shook, almost giving in from under you. 

done.

you breathed heavily, your vision blurring. with painstaking effort you managed to get up. you managed to finish your exercise plan for today. altough you did cut some of the food. you remember the physique of the person looking back at you from the mirror when you were getting ready for the day and just like that, you stand firm with your decision. you could stand to lose a few more pounds.

as you were walking back to the dorms, you pondered. you mentally went over your classmates, how athletic they were, how lithe and toned their bodies were. you couldn't ever compare.

your stomach rumbled. you cringed as the gnawing feeling of hunger started up again. no, you can't. you have to lose more weight, you don't deserve food yet.

you sighed painfully as you entered the dorm building, noticing the shake of your hand as it clumsily fiddled with the doorknob.

weak.

it took all of your strength to waddle over to the couch, almost collapsing unto it. you took a deep breath. and another one. no, you can't pass out, you didn't work as much as you should've, you-

“y/n? are you okay?”

a sweet voice called to you carefully. you turned your head to lock eyes with the person, their green curls gently bouncing as they kneeled in front of you.

“you seem bad, are you feeling sick? do you need me to get you something?” he rambled, as izuku always does. he looked you up and down quickly: “oh, you just finished exercising? good on you for being healthy! although, it seems that today's workout was a little hard on you?”

he smiled gently, getting up before dusting his pants off.

“sit tight, i'll be right back.”

and you did. not like you had enough strength left in you to get up. you relished in the dull ache of your legs, the stinging pain in your abdomen. today was good.

“i'm back! can you sit up for me, please?”

and you do, propping your hands back to push yourselves up. unfortunately, they give out from under you, the shake in them too strong to bear.

“easy there,” midorya whispers gently, catching you with one hand. the other extends to you, inviting you to take a sip of water. you take the cup and gulp it down, desperate to still the ache in you.

“thanks,” you chirp, letting out a long sigh as your gaze finally stills. 

“no problem, glad to help,” he retorts immeadiately, his smile gentler than before.

he seems to study you for a moment. he hesitates before he sits down on the couch beside you, chewing his lip. he seems almost troubled for a second before his gaze sharpens, turning to you resolutely.

“do you want to work out with me?”

“what?” you squeak in response, not expecting that at all.

“i mean, you don't have to of course, but i think- i think it would be fun! and... maybe we could help each other. hold ourselves accountable, you know?” he blurts out, suddenly seeming flustered. his gaze seems to wander around, not focused on you.

“accountable?” you cock your head to the side.

“you know, that we follow our workout plans, and,” he seems to pause, casting a quick glance at you, “that we're taking good enough care of ourselves.”

you still.

he knows.

you sit in silence. maybe for a little while too long. you're sure he realizes what you're doing, how you're pushing yourself to your utmost limits, trying to prove something. what exactly? you're not sure you know that answer yourself. maybe a little help will help you find it.

not sure of your decision at all, you hesitate before turning to meet his gaze with a firm nod. he smiles in response.

“great! i was actually just finishing up throwing something together in the kitchen. do you want some?”

you answer before your brain manages to stop you, nodding yet again. you watch as he heads to the kitchen, dissapearing behind the wall.

you're not sure how much will it work. you're even less sure that it will help. but, straining your ears to hear the soft humming of the boy in the kitchen, you decide that it's worth a try. you ignore the dull ache in your stomach and focus on the warm feeling in your heart, letting it envelop you completely.

[arcadejohn127-9]

How would the demon boys react to some random demon saying that they "went soft" while they were with MC? love your page btw x

Oh ho ho I see! This is going to be fun! And thank you, I love seeing everyone's support!

Lucifer:

Him? Soft? Impossible

The audacity that lesser demon had was almost respectable

But he wasn't going to let it slide

"Perhaps I've been too kind to beings like you, if you truly believe I've grown soft you won't mind me practising my new equipment on you-"

"Luci? What cha doing? I've been looking for you."

As soon as he saw you he didn't even realize the love sick expression on his face

The lesser demon snickered

He realized he didn't keep his mask up

They believed they were going to go free due to his embarassment

But they only made him grip the demons face tighter, his sharp nails digging into their flesh

"not right now, I'm currently putting a demon in their place-"

"oh okay! Don't take too long, you promised you'd help me go shopping, there was a really cute outfit and I don't want to miss it."

"yes, of course, now run along."

You kissed his cheek, thanking him for taking you out

He happily sighed

Quickly placing a kiss on your lips before you left

His head snapped back to the demon with a blood thirsty smirk

"where were we?"

Mammon:

Him?! Soft?! He's got a reputation to uphold!

Like his rep isn't already destroyed by being a bunch of witches servant

Whilst he is feared for his status as a demon, in general his rep is more 'famous guy who Everyone respects but will laugh at him at any given chance'

But Don't tell mammon that

So when a leaser demon says he's gone soft due to you he's insulted

He grabs the lesser demon by the collar, yanking them towards him, pulling down his shades just enough to show off his furious glare

"You're real bold for speaking up against me like that, I'm the avatar of greed! I can destroy your well being with just a slight influence-"

You came marching towards him, brows knitted

"Mammon!!!! Stop picking fights, you promised we'd go to cafe today, I even made sure we'd get matching couples items."

You shoved your phone in his face, showing off the link he sent you

He wanted to go to the cafe due to the couple's coupon and the fact you were allowed matching gifts you can buy

"You Damn human-! Can't you see I'm in the middle of something?! The great mammon needs to defend his rep!"

"you're wasting your time, the cafe is going to get packed if we don't go now."

He didn't budge, trying to counter you but you just raised a brow

You let have a few moments before Rollin your eyes

"I'm going without you."

"BABY NO!!! DON'T LEAVE ME-! I'M COMING I SWEAR!"

He immediately hugged you and was pouting, complaining you embarassed him

But he quickly forgave you when you kissed the corner of his mouth, reminding him he couldn't jump into trouble or else his grades will be effected

Lucifers orders of course

Levithan:

"I will summon Loton on you for even perceiving me!"

It was a bold move on the lesser demons part

And today the ocean demon didn't feel like being talked to by anyone so hearing this made it even worse

He raised his hand in the air, magic glowing at his finger tips

The lesser demon gulped, regretting thinking Levi would be easy to mess with

"Levi, don't summon Loton, we'll get in trouble."

He didn't even realize you were there nor did he notice you arrive

He pouted, lowering his arm and started quickly moving his arms as he spoke

"But they're saying I've grown soft! That's insulting to demons! Especially high ranking ones! It's basically saying I'm a loser!"

"As a high ranking demon, just ignore them~ you're just fine~!"

You didn't want to deal with getting levi out of trouble because he flooded one part of R.A.D so you went to save the confident lesser demon

You grabbed his shoulders, nuzzling your cheek on his

He wanted to push you away due to embarassment and the fact it was in public

But he couldn't help but do the same, squishing his face next to yours with a massive blush on his face

"You're not helping-"

"You're great, let's go back home and finish the game we were playing."

The lesser demon was spared.....for now

Satan:

Does he look like the type to go soft?

Sure he was normally a pleasant guy to be around but soft???!

Despite his charming smile and gentle peaceful presence, he was known for being the most aggressive out of his brother's

So some lesser demon saying he's soft? He wanted to just scoff and ignore it but it chewed at him

"Soft...? Hm, you won't be saying anything when I'm done with you, you'll be too busy crying and gurgling on your own-"

"There you are! I wanted to give the book you let me borrow back- am I interrupting?"

You looked between the cowering demon in Satan's grasp

His horns flickering in out and out, his expression immediately going soft when he looked at you

"yes but what did you think of the book? I thought the characterization of the main lead was the selling point of the whole thing."

"oh definitely but chapter 104 had the best arc."

Satan opened his mouth, removing one his hands off the other demons throat to point at the book but his finger curled

Deciding to not argue with you

"I'll have to debate you on that one - excuse me I need to finish it here before I can debate you on arcs, I won't be long."

You nodded, kissing Satan's cheek and gave the lesser demon a sympathetic look

The lesser demon couldn't enjoy their freedom for long as Satan turned back to them, snarling

Let's just hope he decides it isn't worth his time for that demons sake

Asmodeus:

"me? Soft? Honey, I'm never soft~ I'm always hard~!"

The lesser demon cringed

Asmo crossed his arms, deflating slightly as his joke didn't land

Sure he was offended Someone would call him soft

But it's not like really based his reputation as being some intimidating thing, he wanted to be loved and admired!

But being soft can get you disrespected

So something has to be done and asmo is known definitely by his brothers for getting physical when needed

"Don't look so disgusted, you do understand who you're talking to, right? The avatar of lust - I'm able to bring out all your desires, I know you like things rough so let me show just how violent i can get-"

"hey, are you done threatening-flirting? Whatever you're doing, I need help with some design choices."

You definitely didn't know what you walked in but the lustful demon was your best bet to go to

He was currently caging a lesser demon to a wall and harshly gripping their chin

You just wanted a second opinion on your clothing designs!

"I'll be right there! Can you hold on for a moment please?"

You nodded, sensing the angry aura coming off him

"sure, I got wipes in my bag incase you need them."

"you're wonderful, I love you~!"

He sent you a few air kisses as he smiled at you, you shook your head at his affection

You were thankful you didn't look back because as soon as you walked away you heard a scream

And you were pretty sure it wasn't a good one

Beezlebub:

The lesser demon sure had balls to approach this walking mountain

Was no one intimidated by jocks anymore?

They snarled and teased that he was going soft, expecting a reaction

But Beel just glared at them, his resting bitch face coming in handy

"don't talk to me."

It wasn't long before you found him, he was walking through the halls heading to the main door

"heyy Beel-y, What's up?"

"a demon said I've grown soft....have I?"

You blinked a few times, not expecting the question

You definitely didn't expect the Insecure look on his face

The closer you got to him he was definitely a softie, he was always gentle with you and is super kind

To you, he hasn't changed at all

"I think you have from what I've heard but I don't think that's a bad thing, you can still hold your ground and it just means you're letting yourself not be on guard."

"that makes me feel better, you always know what to say - I'm hungry, let's go eat."

You linked your arms with him, both of you smiling

"sure! I heard there's a nice dessert place opening up!"

Belphegor:

"I think you're talking to the wrong demon, I haven't grown soft."

Again, lesser demons are getting too gutsy towards these demon brother's

Belphegor has never woken up and not chose violence

Sure he was a big cuddle bug and sleeping most of the time

But he could be absolutely ruthless -In words and actions!

"Belphie, I'm heading to the study room, wanna join?"

You didn't really care he was about to go toe to toe with another demon

Knowing he was going to win anyway but you did want to give him a chance to get away

He was on thin ice and could be put on house arrest if he kept acting up and pranking people

"I'm in the middle of threatening Someone right now."

"Alright, don't go too crazy or else you'll get in trouble but I'll be waiting, I bought a pillow for you to sleep on~"

You tugged the pillow out of your bag, wiggling abit as you showed it off

You were already walking away before the sleepy demon could say anything else

He glared at the lesser demon

"I'll prove them wrong another time, too much energy wasted if I did it now."

He immediately went jogging after you, looping an arm around your waist and nuzzled his cheek on your shoulder